The Great Arising
by Razell
Summary: A strange journey with an old OC of mine, after the Rise of R'Lyeh. Some references to sex abuse, but nothing graphic.
1. Chapter 1

The Great Arising

1

The Great Arising was far worse than anyone could have imagined, how can one comprehend the forces that can wrench an entire continent from deep beneath the murky abyss until it's twisted green-black spires towered over even the highest of mountains known to man? When R'yleh arose, millions returned to life, but _billions_ of others died. The geologic upheavals, the shifting of plates swallowed whole countries and ground mighty cities to dust. Tidal waves swept hundreds of miles inland, wiping away much of the world as if it had never existed. Those who survived were in chaos, of the major world powers, only Russia retained some capability to strike back, and a hail of nuclear warheads struck the mighty walls of R'yleh, accomplishing nothing but achieving Great Cthulhu's disfavor, and Moscow was struck with such force by the mighty priest's weapons that an inland sea now sits where one of man's greatest super-powers once stood.

America fared no better, the entire west coast collapsed beneath an earthquake of unthinkable magnitude, from California to Mississippi river, the east coast was left in ruins by what later scholars would term a _"worldquake"_ . The shattered survivors, staring into the dust filled sky, watched as great, bloated creatures with dragon's bodies and tentacled faces swarmed across the earth, eager to reclaim their world. Of course, there was resistance, in the early years, men struck out at the Star Spawn with every weapon at their disposal, and always the result was the same, the Star Spawn could not be injured, as they existed in multiple dimensions at once. Cthulhu's other servants, however, were more vulnerable. Human cultists could be easily killed, and the amphibious Deep Ones, though hardier than men, were only flesh and blood. Man soon learned, however, that such small victories brought attention and terrible reprisal, so much so that humanity finally ceased to fight, struggling to simply survive beneath the feet of a race that barely even noticed their very existence.

In truth, Cthulhu was not malevolent, simply amoral, beyond human concerns and desires. He neither desired nor caused most of the devastation wrecked upon humanity by the Rise of R'lyeh. Had he control over R'lyeh's rising and falling, it would never have sunken to begin with. The sidereal clockworks governed R'lyeh and it's inhabitants. When the stars were 'wrong' they had to sleep, when the stars were 'right', they wee free to walk and fly and crawl. It was that simple. Humanity had suffered the simple misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, nothing more. Those that fought Great Cthulhu and his kin were minor irritants at best, his worshipers, useful beasts, of a little more import than Shoggoths, and a little less than The Brood of Dagon. The rest, simply another breed of animal that had flourished during his long sleep. Insignificant creatures which could be used to further his grand designs. Bizarrely, despite this view of humanity, Great Cthulhu had several children by human, or once human, mates, via some of his more humanoid avatars, of course. The children of these unions were known as Half-Bloods.

This was fortunate, in many ways, for mankind. Great Cthulhu and his minions saw humans as useful pawns, if they saw them at all, so mankind was able to regroup into a primitive society, surviving under the radar. The Star Spawn rarely noticed the affairs of men, but the Half-Bloods did. The Half-Bloods, more often than not, hated their human side, feeling the need to be excessively cruel and brutal toward the people whose blood they so despised within their own veins. Some, however, were kindly disposed toward mankind...

Torren-Wraeth was the son of an avatar of Great Cthulhu and Te'ree, an outcast woman of the Rapa Nui people, born on the island of the same name, which the Europeans would later re-name 'Easter Island'. In form and mind he took more after his mother's people than his father's. In many ways, he was attractive, even beautiful by human standards, though his striking Polynesian features and lithe swimmer's build were offset by a eight small tendrils, three on each side of his lower jaw and two on his chin, his skin was emerald green rather than his mother's warm brown, his almond eyes yellow and cat-like, and slender, bat-like wings that spread from his shoulders. His straight black hair hung long and loose around his pointed ears, though occasionally he would braid it, for special occasions.

He did not hate his human side, rather, he embraced it. His name, given by his father, loosely translated as '_Spirit of the Raging Waters'_, but his personality was far different, though his mother's people were fierce warriors and his father's, cold, calculating and unfeeling, Torren-Wraeth was gentle. He befriended humans, or tried to, both before and after the Rise of R'lyeh. Te'ree still lived, she had been transformed into something more than human, but less than Star-Spawn, another of his father's many concubines.

As a Half-Blood Torren-Wraeth possessed abilities his True-Blood brethren lacked, while they could only communicate with human minds in sleep, Torren-Wraeth could communicate mentally with humans sleeping or awake, and, unlike his kin, he possessed vocal chords capable of actual human conversation. This, combined with his attractive appearance and gentle manner, made him a frequent messenger between his father and the humans who worshiped him. The Elder Sign, bane of his father and those like him, even other Half-Bloods, held no power over Torren-Wraeth. He did not know if this was a sign of favor from the Elder Gods who'd crafted that mystical defense, or due to some innate part of his human nature.

Rapa Nui... The people had all but died out long before the rise of R'lyeh, a combination of factors had led to their demise, systematic deforestation, a genocidal internecine war, followed by starvation. The final nail in the coffin of the Rapa Nui was the arrival of the Europeans in 1722, who brought with them disease, mistreatment and slavery. Torren-Wraeth had wanted to help them, even though they had rejected his mother, rejected him... He had implored his father to intervene, but to no avail. They were not servants of Cthulhu... Torren-Wraeth had never truly forgiven his father...

The island itself, with it's famous Moai statues, now rested in a low valley on the Southwestern portion of R'lyeh, if such directions could be applied to the non-euclidean, extra-dimensional hyper-geometry of the dark city. It's few inhabitants, mostly descended of mixed Rapa Nui and European blood, now lived literally in the shadows of R'lyeh . Torren-Wraeth visited often, protecting his mother's people. He erected again the fallen Moai, many toppled by the Rapa Nui themselves during and after their horrific civil war, moving tons of stone with his bare hands. It was important to him, so much human blood, sweat and tears had gone into the making of the Moai, they symbolized the pride of a people, _his_ people.

Torren-Wraeth flapped his leathery wings lazily, mainly gliding along the strong winds that whipped through the black city whose structures loomed higher than the eye could see. Occasionally one of his massive half-siblings would glide by, surprisingly graceful for their incredible size, or stare impassively out from the portals of their stone domiciles. He knew they neither loved nor hated him, they merely acknowledged his existence even as they acknowledged their own. A cold, unfeeling people, the Cthuli, H.G. Wells' description of his Martian '_Minds that are to our minds as ours are to those of the beasts that perish, intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic_' aptly fit the Star Spawn . Far below him, Torren-Wraeth could see the slithering shapes of near-mindless Shoggoths, and he strained to see if, by chance, a Deep One, a_ Gyo-Jin_, as his dearest friend had called them, lurked below. At least they had some feelings akin to those of humanity. He saw none. He was utterly alone in a city of millions.

Then the loneliness, the aching struck at his heart. Japan was gone, destroyed in the tectonic cataclysm of The Arising. Though Rapa Nui was his birthplace, his heart had been in Japan. Many years ago, his father had sent him to that land to forge an alliance with the Emperor. The alliance had been refused, but while in Japan he had met Goro. Goro had been assigned as his personal servant during his stay, and the two had become fast-friends, once the seemingly insurmountable barriers of 'class' were broken. He had healed Goro's troubled mind, entering his dreams, soothing his nightmares. Goro had lived a life of suffering and loss, and his nights were filled with terrible nightmares and even more terrible realities, something that touched Torren-Wraeth's heart. For the first time, he truly felt human suffering, he truly understood that side of himself, all the hopes and fears and pains... Such pain...

When he left Japan, he took Goro with him. They traveled the world for over 200 years, Torren-Wraeth drawing on his father's power to keep Goro young and healthy. They truly cared for each other, like brothers born. Torren-Wraeth even allowed Goro to call him_ Torren-kun_, no one, other than his mother, could have referred to Torren-Wraeth like that. But Goro was different... He would even have accepted _Torren-chan_, though Goro never could shake off his shackles of low-self esteem to be so familiar with the son of _Kami_... He'd never truly understood, Torren-Wraeth needed Goro far more than Goro needed him. Goro made him feel... _Human.._.

He'd truly loved him, not in the way of ... _Shonen-Ai,_ was it called? Even if Torren-Wraeth had been so inclined, Goro had already suffered far too much of that kind of 'love'. It was difficult for Torren-Wraeth to describe in the terms of either of his parent's tongues, a blending of souls, perhaps? He was a companion, a friend to whom he could open up his innermost heart without fear, and he strove to repay such care in kind. But time takes it's toll, and Goro simply began to lose interest in this life, he yearned to be reunited with his long-dead family, and, finally, Torren-Wraeth let him go. He visited him often, watching in his ageless agony as Goro raised a family, grew old, and finally died. _Death_, even Half-Bloods had little concept of death, such loss was unknown to his father's people. He had experienced loss for the first time in his young life, and this foreign agony crushed him. The pain he felt had never truly gone away, it had left a gaping hole in his soul... A void as deep and dark as the gulf between worlds. He had wept and raged and screamed to the heavens, angry at himself for letting Goro die, angry at Goro for wanting to live as a normal man, for wanting to die. But he came to accept that forcing immortality upon Goro would have been cruel, forcing him to live a life he no longer wanted just for his own sake would have been selfish. He had finally come to peace with himself,but _God_, _did he miss him..._

Goro's descendants were safe, though, even if Japan was gone, Torren-Wraeth had saved them, guiding them for decades, preparing them the best he could. He finally took them to the relative safety of Canada as the end became certain, gave them the signs and words to ward off any of his kin who might do them harm. It was the best he could do, under the circumstances.

The jumbled spires of R'lyeh fell away, opening onto a gloomy sea. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Africa lay ahead, just a short jaunt on his powerful wings. The survival of Africa was almost as miraculous as the survival of Australia (which was directly adjacent to R'yleh), buffeted by tsunamis and earthquakes, rent and torn almost beyond recognition, but still there.

He turned to look back, and the greenish-black stone of R'lyeh blocked his view for as far as he could see, blotting out horizon and sky with it's incredible bulk. It was unnatural, in more ways than one, R'lyeh was less a continent than a great, graven image to Great Cthulhu and to _his_ god, _Yog-Sothoth, The Key and The Gate_. Torren-Wraeth knew that, someday, R'lyeh would simply fade away from it's earthly presence and re-appear on some other, more desirable world. They were, after all, only temporary residents on this planet, R'lyeh was little more than a great city-engine to leech all it could from earth before leaving for greener pastures in an endless, soulless cycle of domination and devastation. He hoped silently that humanity would live to see that day when Great Cthulhu and his hordes left their world forever. He often wondered, if, when that day came, he would go with them...

But he knew the answer to that. He would go. He had to go. The humans had a saying, at least before the Great Arising "_Hell is other people_", but they were wrong, oh so wrong. _Hell is being alone..._

To be continued...

_Notes_:

This story is set many years in the future.

About _Torren-Wraeth_:

Height-5'8"

Weight-182 pounds

Age-Unknown

Clothing: Usually a simple red loin-cloth, if anything. Occasionally blue jeans or a black, late 20th century Japanese school uniform tailored to fit his wings.

(On special occasions) Red toga with a metal pauldron over left shoulder in the shape of a tentacled creature attached to a short red cape that drapes his left side.

He can appear as a human, but it's difficult for him.

In_ D&D_ terms:

Alignment: _Chaotic Good_

Class_: Divine_ _Proxy of Cthulhu_

About_ Goro_:

I was unsure what honorific to use for Goro,_ kun_ seemed too formal, (From Torren-Wraeth's perspective, anyway) but _chan_ could be misinterpreted as belittling.

Yes, he was a prostitute, though not by choice. He was not 'involved' with Torren-Wraeth in that way. He was selected through some form of divination as the best candidate with which to honor the visiting _Divine Messenger_. Cthulhu caused him to be picked, as a way of trying to appease his son after his inaction towards the Rapa Nui, as he realized Goro's potential with Torren-Wraeth.

He was also a commoner and an orphan, thus he had no family name. He presumably took one after returning to the human world, though.

I would write his story, but my ignorance of Japanese culture would either make it inaccurate or offensive, or both. I don't even know if, at the time it occurred (Late 17th century), the Emperor held the power to negotiate in behalf of his country, or if that power belonged to the Shoguns. If anyone wants to (And can) write that story, feel free.

_Others_:

I found _Te'ree_ in a list of Rapa Nui women's names. I don't know what it means, but it stood out to me...

_Cthulhu_ does love his children, including Torren-Wraeth, it is hard for them to relate, however, as their minds are so different.


	2. Chapter 2

The Great Arising

2

"Great Cthulhu looks favorably upon your sacrifices." Torren-Wraeth swept his arms expansively before the congregation, "And your faith pleases him greatly." He had been summoned, he hated being summoned, but it was his duty. "What is your desire?" A fire blazed on the stone alter behind him, and dark-robed humans knelt before the child of their god as a tentacular, vaguely toad-like being known colloquially as a "_Servitor of the Outer Gods_", (His personal name was Grix), piped away on a bone flute. The High Priest, distinguished by his rich green robes, stood, "We seeketh only a small boon from thy sire." Torren-Wraeth rolled his eyes mentally, why did humans_ always_ use that annoying Archaic English in religious rights. Cthulhu didn't speak English, let alone _Ye Olde English_. "What is it?" The priest then began a short list of needs, more game to hunt, more rain for the crops, as if Cthulhu could magically make them appear. Well, he could make rain, at least, but not_ animals_... Animal life had flourished since The Great Arising, with so few humans left to hunt them, these people had probably been careless, overtaxing their resources...

"Rain will not be a problem," Torren-Wraeth said confidently, then, "But animals and good crops are more in the domain of Shub-Niggurath." Grix stopped piping and eyed Torren-Wraeth in surprise. The priest looked confused, the congregation certainly was. "Cans't thou not aid us?" Torren-Wraeth considered for a moment, Cthulhu could drive animals toward this village, but could he make crops grow? "He can send rain and more game animals for you to hunt, but as for the growing of crops, you will likely have to either trust your luck or make sacrifices to Cernunos." That avatar of Shub-Niggurath was closely associated with agriculture, and Cthulhu didn't mind sharing his worshipers. Torren-Wraeth knew of one 'god' he didn't want the people to follow, however. "And by The Key and The Gate don't start worshiping _He-Who-Walks-Between-the-Rows_!" Lightning struck near the entrance of the church, fusing sand to glass, "If you sacrifice to him, I'll kill you all myself!" The congregation recoiled in terror. A steady rain began to fall outside the 'church'. The congregation, forgetting their confusing, terrifying 'angel', and went wild. "PRAISE CTHULHU!" "IA! IA! CTHULHU NAFLFHTAGN!"

Great Cthulhu held court from his green-black graven throne in the Temple of The Key and The Gate. Though many worshiped him as a god or feared him as a devil, the Lord of R'Lyeh was in truth a high priest of Yog-Sothoth. Not that he discouraged his own worship, even as his own clerics, Father Dagon and Mother Hydra, gladly accepted the worshipful adulation of the lesser races. There were plenty of eager and fearful acolytes for everyone.

Later, after the humans had all driven or drunken themselves into noisy slumber, Grix rolled over to Torren-Wraeth, who sat cross-legged and disgusted on the cold stone floor. "Your father may not be pleased that you shattered his image of omnipotence." "Should I give these people lies?" Torren-Wraeth spoke freely, no one there but the two of them understood Grix' tongue. Grix laughed, a peculiar gurgling sound, "Isn't it all a lie, in the end? _You_ made it rain, not your father. I could have, too, if I had wanted." Torren-Wraeth sighed, not knowing how to respond, then took the pipe from Grix' slimy tentacles and began to play.

Torren-Wraeth had some friends and allies, human or otherwise. Tektaktequataquarl, a True-Blood Hastur-Spawn. An unlikely friend, certainly, as Hastur and Cthulhu were grave enemies, and Hastur's Spawn were no more given to emotion in any human standard than those of his nemesis. 'Tek' was an exception, wild, emotional, maybe even a little bit crazy, even by the standards of The King in Tatters. He took human form, male, beautiful, gold skin and gleaming wings, though in truth 'he' was a hermaphroditic golden mass of flesh, tendrils, eyes and mouths. As Hastur-Spawn, he was unwelcome in Cthulhu's court, but he ignored the threats with the casual indifference of an immortal, perhaps he even found a perverse pleasure in visiting enemy territory. Besides, his mate, the Bloated Woman, also known as the Goddess of the Black Fan, lived in the mountains of China. Seven feet tall, six hundred pounds of blubber and writhing tendrils topped with five vicious mouths and a pair of exquisitely beautiful eyes. When holding the Black Fan under her eyes, she was slim and beautiful, a mask for luring men to a gruesome death. Ironically, Tek found the true form more appealing, a form so similar to his own... Regardless, Cthulhu would never dare move against_ her_, for The Bloated Woman was an avatar of the only being Cthulhu truly feared, _Nyarlathotep_. To anger Nyarlathotep meant horrors even Great Cthulhu dare not imagine. Torren-Wraeth did not care much for the cruel Goddess, but, in some strange way, Tek _loved _her. Torren-Wraeth had no way of knowing if the feeling was reciprocated, one _never _knew with The Crawling Chaos...

Then there were the Insects from Shaggai, who had dwelt in England's Severn valley for centuries, repairing their temple-ship. They brought with them their experiences, their dreams and nightmares of far-off wonders; The cities of long-dead Shaggai, the titanic natives of Thuggon, of L'gh'hx, Xiclotl and Tond. They had finally escaped earth shortly before The Great Arising. They had been cruel and twisted beings, but living their mortal memories made Torren-Wraeth long to visit these worlds, where eyeless giants strode teeming marshes and suns blazed black in amber skies. He sometimes used his skills at bending space and reality to take brief jaunts to these worlds. But he always came back. He could not seem to break earth's hold on him, the ties of birth and blood were too strong.

In his house at R'Lyeh Torren-Wraeth slept poorly. His home, small by Cthuli standards, was the size of a cathedral, one large room with a stone bed covered by warm blankets and a square, shallow pool of flowing seawater that served as a bath. A low stone shelf held an image of Goro, preserved forever beneath unbreakable, transparent alien stone. Several books, scrolls and tablets lay scattered about, and the room, from floor to ceiling, was covered with elaborate carvings of alien worlds and incredible creatures. A grim looking Moai sat in a corner, looking out over the green-black structure. A small chest of amber-colored stone, strongly contrasting the general color scheme, held Torren-Wraeth's clothing.

He rose from his bed and walked across the cool floor to the open portal, staring out at the fickle stars that flickered in the night sky. _Isn't it all a lie in the end?_ He sighed, then turned to the chest and began to dress.

Ho Fong stood at the gates of the Monastery of The Bloated Woman, catching the first rays of sunlight. He was old, centuries had passed since he became high priest of The Order of The Bloated Woman, yet time held no power over him. He appeared to be in his early fifties, without even a gray hair. Someone, an American, no doubt, had once insultingly compared him to the fictional Chinese villain _Fu Manchu_. In truth, he did resemble a significantly heavier version of the Devil Doctor, complete with the signature moustache. He'd killed the man, of course. The Goddess required sacrifices, after all. As the golden light began to bath the magnificent mountains of China in divine splendor, he thought about _The Other_. He did not worship lord Tektaktequataquarl, as he didn't seem to desire worship, but was obliged to give him all due respect as the Goddess' consort. Tek was coming, of course. The only constant in that being of chaos' life was his love for the Goddess, a love Ho Fong envied, though he could never bring himself to admit it. He straightened his yellow and black silk robes, the official garb of the Order, and prepared to greet the Hastur-Spawn.

The monastery was fairly new, The Order had once had centers in Shanghai and on Gray Dragon Island, but these had been lost in 1926. Enemies of The Order had overwhelmed and destroyed them. Much had been lost, and Ho Fong himself had nearly been killed. These had been powerful setbacks, but, in the end, they had been immaterial, as both Shanghai and Gray Dragon Island now lay lost beneath the waves. Ho Fong's enemies, _The Goddess'_ enemies, were all long dead. He walked back into the monastery, passing lesser monks and acolytes who bowed dutifully toward him, and approached the great bronze doors behind which the Goddess rested. Two burly monks opened the doors and Ho Fong respectfully approached the screens of yellow and black silk that lay beyond the carven jade sacrificial alter.

The Bloated Woman sat upon a pile of silken cushions, smoking essence of Black Lotus from an ornate hookah, it's pipe in her third mouth. The Black Fan and six sacred golden sickles, used to dispatch human sacrifices, hung from a black silk sash wrapped around her prodigious belly. The priest bowed deeply to his beloved Goddess. "He will not be here for some time yet." The Goddess voice was smooth and sultry. "Receive him warmly." She blew fragrantly scented smoke from her fourth mouth, whilst speaking through her second and first.

Tektaktequataquarl flapped his gleaming wings in the bright morning sun. He felt Torren-Wraeth's approach long before he could see him. He was a good kid, level-headed and thoughtful, the total opposite of Tek himself. Perhaps that was why he liked him, a balance of chaos and order. _Yin _and _Yang_, so to speak. Ever since his human confidant had died, the Half-Blood had become more sullen and withdrawn. He needed more excitement in his life. Perhaps Tek himself needed less, courting an avatar of Nyarlathotep. Even Hastur had expressed concern about that union, but love is blind. She was evil, in human terms, but, then again, by human terms she was hideous. He found her beautiful and dangerous. He wondered what their coming offspring would be like...

He suddenly realized something had changed. Torren-Wraeth was in trouble, his life was in danger. He turned back and sped toward the Half-Blood...

To be continued...

Notes:

About _Tektaktequataquarl_:

His name (loosely translated) means_ 'Silver Tongues' _in Hasturian

He sometimes pretends to be _Amatsu-Mikaboshi_, _Anansi_, _Coyote_, _Hundun, Loki_ or _Sun Wukong_, adopting appropriate forms for each. It's doubtful any of them approve.

Typical Humanoid Form:

Height: 6'3"

Weight: ?

Clothing- Yellow silk robes, if any.

Alignment- Chaotic Neutral

Class- Demigod of Chaos and Trickery

Group- The Million Favoured Ones of Nyarlathotep

He looks like an angel in humanoid form, but that's just a mask. He almost always appears as a male, for reasons known only to himself. He's actually hermaphroditic, like most Mythos beings, but generally lives as a male.

_Grix_-

Length- 5'

Weight- 110 Pounds

Alignment- Neutral

Class- Bard

He goes where he's summoned and plays his flute, mainly at ceremonies for various deities. He has no allegiance to any of them, his master is Azathoth. He'd play for Hastur just as soon as Cthulhu is done with his services.

_Shub-Niggurath_:

Though usually referred to as female, Shub-Niggurath is hermaphroditic, and 'her' avatars can be male '_Cernunos'_ or female "_Cybele, the All-Mother_" or neither '_He-Who-Walks-Between-The-Rows_.'

_Nyarlathotep_:

Is sexless, usually referred to as male, and has both male (_The Black Man_) and female (_The Bloated Woman_) avatars. Some, like _Ahtu_ and _The Black Wind_ are sexless.

_The Insects from Shaggai, Beings from Xiclotl, Tond_, etc belong to Ramsey Campbell.

_The Bloated Woman_ and _Ho Fong_ belong to Chaosium and Larry Ditillio.

_He-Who-Walks-Between-The-Rows_ A.K.A. The Corn Demon from _Children of The Corn_ is copyrighted by Stephen King

_Fu Manchu_ was created by Sax Rohmer and is under public domain.


	3. Chapter 3

The Great Arising

3

_Heaven's not enough_

_If when I'm there I don't remember you..._

The words came unbidden to Torren-Wraeth's mind. The line was from an old song from the soundtrack of an old Japanese _anime_ that had confused and depressed the hell out of him. He shook his head,_ Heaven's Not Enough, Steve Conte, Wolf's Rain soundtrack, No... there had been two soundtracks for that series, this was the first song on the second._ _Why wasn't it called_ Wolves' Rain_?_ He thought, trying to dispel the sad song, but it played on, and he was even singing softly toward the song's end...

'_Cause I couldn't cry_

'_Cause I turned away_

_Couldn't see the score_

_Didn't know the pain_

_Of leaving yesterday really far behind_

_in another life_

_in another dream_

_By a different name_

_gave it all away for a memory _

_and a quiet lie_

_and I felt the face _

_Of the cold tonight_

_Still don't know the score_

_But I know the pain_

_Of leaving everything really far behind ..._

Thus distracted, he did not see Dahlman.

The sorcerer was a servant of the _He Who Gnaws in The Darkness_. Azathoth was neither ally nor enemy to Cthulhu, he was actually his 'Great-Grandfather' having sired both Yog-Sothoth and Shub-Niggurath, who had sired Nug and Yeb, Nug being Cthulhu's parent by parthogenesis. Azathoth's 'worshipers', however, tended to be madmen in the truest sense. He was a mindless entity, neither desiring nor rewarding worship. Some of the gods who danced round and round his throne often took it upon themselves to accept his worship and grant gifts in his behalf. Especially Nyarlathotep...

The Outer Gods were the key. Humans were a weak species, helpless in the face of even the least of The Great Old Ones. But by learning, by studying the Outer Gods, by utilizing their power, a human could assume a form of divinity themselves. For decades Dahlman had faithfully studied the ancient texts,_ The Book of Eibon_, The_ Necronomicon_, _The Book of Iod_, and he had learned to harness the power of those who lurked mindless and blind beyond the thin veil of reality. And now he would prove his worth, he would bring down an immortal, the child of a god...

A bolt of lightning shook Torren-Wraeth from his revery, it barely hurt, but he could tell it was not natural. He turned to see a black-clad figuring closing in upon him, and erected a _Deflect Harm_ even as the human struck out with _Fist of Yog-Sothoth_. "Okay, _now_ you're annoying me." Torren-Wraeth lashed out with _Implant Fear_, hoping to avoid having to actually kill this irrational attacker. He disliked sorcerers, but he also disliked having to harm people. But the madman had cast _Deflect Harm_ upon himself, and, thus protected, struck back with _The Dread Curse of Azathoth_. Torren-Wraeth reeled, _Now _that_ hurt!_ Enraged, Torren-Wraeth physically rushed the sorcerer, ignoring the protective amulet the man held out, and punched him square in the nose, breaking it. Distracted by the pain, Dahlman fell before _Implant Fear_.

Dahlman's mind was instantly overwhelmed with unimaginable fear and he turned to flee, all spells forgotten in his terror, only to run into a golden monstrosity streaking toward him in the dawning sky. He called frantically upon his gods to save him. But these were not benevolent gods, they were fickle, and enjoyed granting lesser beings great power, just to have the pleasure of snatching it away. His gods deserted him mid-flight, his skin shriveled and shrank tight against his bones as he aged in seconds. The capricious Outer Gods no doubt laughed as their former ward fell into the sea, and was immediately set upon by sharks.

Torren-Wraeth and Tek watched impassively as the dying sorcerer fell into the sea.

"Who was that?"

"I have no idea."

"And I thought you were in trouble."

"Sorry."

"You do get in the strangest situations." Tek observed wryly.

"Sorry."

You've made me late, you know."

"Sorry about that."

"It's okay, I could use the break. A word of advice, never marry a woman with _five_ mouths."

Both Tek and Torren-Wraeth laughed.

Ho Fong arched an eyebrow as he saw the disheveled Torren-Wraeth accompanying Lord Tektaktequataquarl. He'd seen him before, of course, he occasionally visited alongside Tek, though his distaste for the ritual sacrifices of human beings was clearly evident. Fortunately, no such events were scheduled. "Are you alright, Lord Torren-Wraeth?" He knew better than to call him simply 'Torren' or 'Wraeth'. "I'll be all right, Master Ho," Torren-Wraeth said with perfect Chinese courtesy, "But I would be most grateful for a place to rest for a while." Ho Fong smiled, "Of course," he turned, "Ping, take lord Torren-Wraeth to one of the guest areas and provide him with _whatever_ refreshments he requires." A youngish monk, dressed in the standard yellow and black silk, stepped forward and led Torren-Wraeth deeper into the monastery.

It was instantly obvious to Torren-Wraeth that Ping was not Chinese, at least, not in the ethnic sense. He was one of the dreaded Tcho-Tcho people, descendants of toad-like creatures created by the Great Old One Chaugnar Faugn and human cultists. The Tcho-Tcho had an evil reputation, one well earned. The vast majority of them served the Great Old Ones, and many practiced cannibalism. There were exceptions, of course, not _all_ Tcho-Tcho were evil or insane, but those individuals were usually outcasts, hated and sometimes even _hunted_ by their own people. As they walked, Torren-Wraeth halted for a moment before an idol of carved black stone. It was well-crafted and incredibly detailed, lean muscled and lanky, wings extended, the webbed hands held palm up like a divine supplicant, the curving trunk-mouth lifted upward as if it were sounding a call. A call to Death itself, for this was _Shugoran_, The Herald of Death, worshiped and feared by the Tcho-Tcho people. Ping knelt reverently then hurried Torren-Wraeth into a nearby chamber.

The scent of Black Lotus was thick in the air as the monks shut the great copper door behind Tek. "You really shouldn't smoke you know," he said casually, "Terrible for the lungs..." The Bloated Woman rose from her cushions, "Only if you are a mortal, which I am not." Tek smiled, then shed his semblance of humanity, becoming a writhing, shapeless mass of golden flesh, golden tentacles, golden eyes and pearly white fangs. "What of our child?" Several mouths spoke at once. The Goddess came closer with a grace unfitting such an obese creature. "_Nothing_ can harm our offspring." "How long, do you think?" The Bloated Woman stopped, apparently this visit was for business, _not_ pleasure. "It is impossible to tell. I have born some children within days of conception, and others within centuries." She sensed a slight jealous possessiveness on the part of the Hastur-Spawn, he wanted her as his sole mate, an amusing and archaic notion, not often seen in a True-Blood. The fact that he knew she had devoured most of the former lovers did not apparently assuage this unseemly feeling. "I feel that this one will be born within a month or two..." She grinned horribly with all five mouths, "How has your father reacted?" "Our child will be welcome in Carcosa." Hastur, in truth, was somewhat worried, fearing that the child would be another avatar of Nyarlathotep, that the Crawling Chaos would use the child as yet another form in which to manifest itself. In other words, he feared that Nyarlathotep would give birth to _itself_...

For all the vile practices that went on in the Monastery of The Bloated Woman, it was a beautiful place, richly decorated in jade and silver, gold and silk. Yellow and black, every strand of silk in the monastery was either yellow or black. The yellow made for a much friendlier environment than the dark, ominous stones of R'Lyeh. The Goddess favored those colors, for some reason. Torren-Wraeth remembered something Goro had once said. Among his people and several other Asian cultures, yellow was the color of mourning. Black meant death and mourning in the West, yellow filled that role in the East. Was it intentional? Probably, but he was a guest, and it would be rude to question his hosts. He changed from his slightly charred clothing into the yellow and black robes that had been kindly provided him and stepped out into the hallway. There he saw Ping once again kneeling before Shugoran.

_Notes_:

I originally had a long, elaborate battle between Torren-Wraeth and _He-Who-Walks-Between-The-Rows_, but it ended up a depressing cliche` story with Torren-Wraeth moping about having destroyed the human cultist's food supply, _His_ point of view on how _He_ wasn't evil, pointless moralizing, blah, blah, blah...

So I replaced _Him_ with Dahlman...

When Lovecraft referred to Azathoth as _The Nuclear Chaos_, this was before the 'Nuclear Age' of atomic energy. Lovecraft used the word 'Nuclear' as in '_Nucleus_' a central force or position, not to denote a radioactive terror.

_Ping:_

Height- 5'3"

Weight- 96 pounds

Class- Monk (Acolyte)

Alignment- Lawful Evil

He worships almost all of the Great Old Ones and Outer Gods in one form or another. he may be short for a normal human, but he's actually_ tall_ for a Tcho-Tcho.

_Dahlman:_

Height-?

Weight-?

Class- Sorcerer

Alignment- Chaotic Evil

An insane, evil sorcerer who has gained extended life through magic and decided to test his skills against the first powerful Mythos being he ran across, Torren-Wraeth. Known in aquatic circles as _'Shark Bait'. _He didn't taste as good as Steve, the guy who'd eaten the Reese's Bites...

_Wolf's Rain _copyright Bones Studios

_Heaven's Not Enough _is presumably copyrighted by Steve Conte and MIYA Records

_The Tcho-Tcho_ were created by August Derleth

_Chaugnar Faugn_ was created by Frank Belknap Long

_Shugoran_ belongs to T.E.D. Klein

'_Shug_' means, loosely translated '_Sniffing_' (In reference to an elephant's trunk) and '_Oran_' means '_Man_' It is an avatar of Nyarlathotep from Myanmar (Formerly Burma) who hunts down and kills enemies of the Tcho-Tcho.

_He-Who-Walks-Between-The-Rows_ belongs to Stephen King


	4. Chapter 4

The Great Arising

4

A smile lit Goro's dark face. He looked down at the elegant dark blue kimono in his arms. "It's beautiful." Torren-Wraeth smiled in return, he loved to see Goro smile. "It belongs to you, Goro-chan." "But, this is too..." "You deserve it far more than any pampered noble." The dark-skinned youth blushed. "Thank you, Torren-kun!" As Goro dressed, Torren-Wraeth looked at his own kimono, bright red and fashionable. He had worried about attracting undue attention with the appearance of wealth, but he decided that he was strong enough to risk any human robber or thief. Besides, this was to be their first trip to the Kabuki theater. It had taken enough time and effort to make himself appear human, he might as well show off. He looked up at Goro, partly dressed and excitedly pulling himself together. He thought of the men who had abused him, and felt a twitch of rage... Goro must_ never_ find out what Torren-Wraeth had done to those men. He did not want Goro to ever even hear the name_ Y'Golonac_, much less learn what he was, how he dealt with his victims. Torren-Wraeth loathed Y'Golonac, the _Defiler_, the _Obscenity_, the obese, headless god of depravity, who devoured his victims slowly with the mouths in the palms of his flabby, groping hands. But he had to avenge Goro, he had to make them pay for using him, for torturing him, for robbing him of his childhood and his innocence. Only Y'Golonac could grant the punishment those men deserved... Then Goro was standing there, smiling, in his blue kimono, and Torren-Wraeth was happy again...

Torren-Wraeth awoke slowly, not wanting to leave his dream, because Goro still lived in his dreams... He was in China, not Japan, in the Monastery of The Order of The Bloated Woman. Japan was gone, _Goro_ was gone, and Torren-Wraeth was still here. Warm tears ran down his cheeks, but he brushed them away. Life had to go on, and on, and on...

Great Cthulhu was concerned. Hastur seemed to have gained some favor in Nyarlathotep's many eyes, and anything that benefited Hastur weakened Cthulhu, in both their eyes. "My Lord Cthulhu, there is no need for concern," The tall, red-robed figure that stood at the side of Cthulhu's throne moved forward respectfully, Chxixsas' bone-white face seemed to swim within his voluminous robes, "It is well known that the fruits of Nyarlathotep's attentions are rarely to be desired." The voice was thin, hollow, distant, " This may prove, in fact, a setback for The King in Tatters. Even now he trembles in his palace at Carcosa, fearing what manner of spawn this union may unleash." Cthulhu gave the equivalent of a laugh, "Can you picture them, The Black Wind knocking down the walls of Carcosa, the Bloody Tongue crushing that cursed palace into dust! Oh, one can dream, Chxixsas... One can dream..."

The two masks, the Golden Angel and the Slender Maiden stood side by side, _Isn't it all a lie, in the end?_ Torren-Wraeth bowed politely before the Bloated Woman. She was holding the Black Fan under her eyes, giving the illusion that she was a slender young lady, at least to the humans present. Ho Fong stood by reverently, but his jealousy of Tek was as strong as ever. Torren-Wraeth wondered if The Bloated Woman would play them against each other...He hoped not, for both their sake's. "It is an honor to again have the presence of the Son of Cthulhu in my humble monastery." "The honor is all mine," Torren-Wraeth replied softly, "My father sends his greetings and good-will toward you, My Lady." The Bloated Woman's nose-tendril curled delicately in the air, "No doubt. Send him my good-will in return." Torren-Wraeth couldn't help but look at the sacrificial altar, where human victims had their arms cut off by the sacred sickles, after which they bled to death. He shuddered slightly at the horrible images flashing through his mind. The Bloated Woman noted this, but politely made no mention of it. Torren-Wraeth honestly could not condemn her, almost all of the worshiped entities, including his own father, demanded human sacrifice, many in even more horrible ways... "I regret that I have to leave so soon, though I am grateful for your hospitality." The last part, at least, was true. "May The Key and The Gate be with you."

To be continued...

_Notes:_

_Chxixsas:_

Titles- _The Wise One In The Darkness_

_The Mask of Wisdom_

_The Mind of Darkness_

_The Shadow Sage_

Height- Variable, Normally 70' tall

Weight- ?

Class- Lesser God of Knowledge

Alignment- Neutral

Chxixsas is a lesser Great Old One. He appears as a thin humanoid form of pure blackness, save for his bone-white face, which resembles a Kabuki mask, his pale blue eyes and long white hair. He usually wears an elaborate red robe. He currently acts as personal advisor to Cthulhu. He's not particularly powerful for a Great Old One, but he is a genius even by Great Old One standards. He is the son of Zstylzhemghi and Ghisguth, brother of Tsathoggua and uncle of Cthulhu.

Chxixsas is my creation.

It's pronounced _Chick-Sass-Zaz_

_Y'Golonac_, The Defiler was created by Ramsey Campbell

_The Bloated Woman_, _Ho Fong_ etc were created by Larry Ditillio and Chaosium.

_The Black Wind_ and _The God of The Bloody Tongue_ belong to Chaosium.

From what I know of The Order of The Bloated Woman, the human victim is held down and his arms are cut off using the sacred golden sickles, after which he bleeds to death. The Bloated Woman may also devour her prey directly, holding him tightly, cracking his skull open and slurping down his brains.

_Zstylzhemghi_:

Title- Matriarch of the Swarm

Mother of Tsathoggua and Chxixsas by Ghisguth

Zstylzhemghi is_ not_ my creation


	5. Chapter 5

The Great Arising

5

In 2050 an ill-conceived invasion of earth was launched by the Kalkars, a human-like, if excessively tall, race from a world called Va-Nah. They were led by a petty dictator called Orthis. It was spectacularly unspectacular, just another failed attempt to subjugate pre-cataclysmic humanity. However, it is notable for the reason that they had brought with them one thousand Va-gas, a lavender-hued slave race of quadrupeds with human-like faces and front limbs that doubled as arms. Not particularly intelligent at this stage of their development, the Va-gas were violent and cannibalistic, (Due in part to a lack of available food on Va-Nah) even preferring Va-gas flesh over that of other races. Fierce fighters with great strength, they also bred rapidly, making them very useful to their masters, since, as well as serving as soldiers, they also served as food for their brutal masters. The Kalkars, though arguably more intelligent than the Va-gas, were even worse. They (_The Kalkars_) grew fat, lazy and complacent, still, for over 200 years they managed to 'rule' earth, mainly through dumb luck and petty cruelty. Unlike H.G. Wells' luckless Martian invaders in _War of the Worlds_, the Kalkars could survive (And breed) quite well in earth's atmosphere.

Torren-Wraeth played no part in the earth-Va-Nah war, Goro had died in 2042 and the youth was lost in his own private agonies and recriminations. The Great Old Ones and Outer Gods mostly stood by on the sidelines, it did not concern them whether earth was ruled by humans or Kalkars, in the end, earth belonged to_ them_. They felt the Va-gas had potential as servants, but the Kalkars were fairly useless to them. So the war was fought, mortal against mortal, bloody and cruel as all wars are. Orthis died early in the war, but it was a costly victory, for the human leader had perished with him. For every human victory, there was a terrible loss, Mankind was thrust into loose fifedoms and petty kingdoms in what the scholars call, _The Second Dark Age_, and the Kalkar's Empire reigned supreme. But, as with all empires, they faltered... The conquerers degenerated, forgetting the technology of their ancestors. Eventually humanity rose up and all but wiped them out with little more than swords and knives. Inter-species breeding and The Great Arising had, apparently, finished the job.

The Va-gas, being even less human-like and therefore more easily despised, were nearly wiped out as well, but they had won the favor of various powerful entities who rescued and found uses for them, particularly Shub-Niggurath. Torren-Wraeth had protected a small tribe of Va-gas as well, leaving them to protect his personal sanctuary, an abandoned shrine to Tsathoggua in Canada. It was here that he kept his most valued possessions and important artifacts. Many of Goro's belongings were housed within the temple, as were priceless treasures rescued from oblivion during the Great Arising. Paintings, statues, books... The history of humanity protected by descendants of alien invaders within a temple to an alien god. The Toad God himself allowed the use of his sanctuary for this purpose, as he was both Torren-Wraeth's great-uncle and too lazy and indifferent to truly care.

The Va-gas had become more intelligent over the centuries, and those associated with Torren-Wraeth were far less vicious than their ancestors. They even lived in a sort of uneasy peace with the nearby human tribes, by human terms, they had been '_civilized_'. Once again, Torren-Wraeth wondered if it was right to impose human standards on non-human beings: Weren't they better off, not killing and eating each other? Weren't the local humans safer now? Hadn't he helped them? Isn't that what the colonialists he so hated always said? It was too late to wonder about that now...

Torren-Wraeth had visited Va-Nah once, and _only_ once, it was worse than R'Lyeh, worse than Tond, even. Even in it's current state, earth was a far better place to live than that wretched hell-hole.

Torren-Wraeth glided over the burgeoning town of New Yokohama, set up by Japanese refugees he'd managed to ferry safely to Canada. It was named after Goro's hometown, though few knew of Torren-Wraeth's prior dealings with Japan, the Emperor and Shoguns had hushed everything up. Great Cthulhu, through Torren-Wraeth, had offered to make the Japanese Empire the greatest in the world, but they had refused. They could not accept one of the terms of the agreement, they could never bear the 'dishonor' of mixing their blood with _Gyo-Jin_. They had no idea that some of their people were_ already_ involved with the Gyo-Jin, as were people in coastal areas all over the world...and Torren-Wraeth had not enlightened them. People looked up and waved, Torren-Wraeth was well-liked in New Yokohama, as he had saved the original founders from certain death.

The Va-gas' settlement, Black-Stone-Place, was primitive, huts of wood and stone arraigned in a semi-circle around the black stone temple. Va-gas usually dwelled in Tepee-like structures, but these were 'settled', as guardians of the temple, they naturally remained in it's vicinity. They even had a rude form of agriculture, though this was mainly for animal feed, as Va-gas vastly preferred meat over vegetables. They raised some pigs and horses for convenient food, but they were mainly hunters, deer, wild hogs, wild horses, and moose were abundant. They, like most Va-gas on earth, worshiped The Black Goat of The Woods With A Thousand Young, and a shrine of antlers and bone lay at the apex of the crescent shaped village. It was here that the Goat's Dark Young came to collect their sacrifices and accept their worship, for the Dark Young were Shub-Niggurath's proxies, as Torren-Wraeth was Cthulhu's.

The Va-gas chieftain, Walks-With-The-Wind, met Torren-Wraeth as he landed. He stood upright on his hind limbs, and extended a three-digited paw in greeting. "Welcome back. May The Mother of All bless you." His black hair was beginning to gray, but his grip was strong. "And may she bless you, my friend." Torren-Wraeth replied, "How's hunting?" A small crowd of Va-gas of various sizes and ages gathered around the Half-Spawn, "The Mother has granted us abundance." "I'm glad to hear it. Any problems with the humans?" Walks-With-The-Wind paused thoughtfully, "No, humans rarely come, and none enter the temple." "The guardian must be lonely." Of course, the guardian was never lonely, even if it did not have twelve heads to keep itself company, it lacked such mortal attributes as loneliness and boredom, but it possessed the key that made it an invaluable guardian, _loyalty_. At the mention of the guardian, the Va-gas drew back as one, they feared it, that terrible 'spirit' with twelve heads on long, scraggly necks and twenty legs on it's globular body. It had not been his intention to frighten the superstitious Va-gas, but he had. "I'm going to visit the temple. Thank you for guarding it so well." Torren-Wraeth smiled, and made his way through the parting creatures. They wouldn't set foot in the temple, they believed it to be filled with captive human souls from the Great Arising, despite Torren-Wraeth's assertions to the contrary.

The temple was of black stone, squat and rectangular, with massive stone doors.

Torren-Wraeth entered the temple.

To be continued...

_Notes:_

In Edgar Rice Burroughs' original story, _Va-Nah_ is actually the interior of_ Luna_, earth's moon.

_Va-gas-_ Are like less-furry, purple versions of satyrs or fauns that can walk on four legs as well as two. Or dogs with human heads... They are _Not_ centaurs.

I think Kalkar is singular and Kalkars plural, but I may be wrong.

_Tsathoggua_ and his 'Mother' _Zstylzhemghi_ and 'Father' _Gisguth_ were created by Clark Ashton Smith.

_Va-gas, Va-Nah_ and _Kalkars_ appear in the Edgar Rice Burroughs' _Moon Maid_ series.

_The Guardian_ is based an un-named guardian creature that appears briefly in _The Insects From Shaggai_ by Ramsey Campbell. It's number of heads and legs aren't specified in the story, so I made them up.

_Walks-With-The-Wind_:

Height-6' (Standing on his hind limbs)

Weight- 200 pounds

Class- Barbarian Chieftain

Alignment- Chaotic Neutral

The chief of Black-Stone-Place, a master hunter and tracker, and excellent warrior. He's very superstitious, and frequently consults the tribes' shamans for advice. He would do anything the Mother, through her Dark Young, commanded.

The _Gyo-Jin_ 'Fish-People' are, of course, _Deep Ones_. Maybe they are the ancestors of the Gyo-Jin from my _One Piece_ story _Gyo-Jin Pride_. I wonder how much of the Multiverse I can tangle into this messy little web...


	6. Chapter 6

The Great Arising

6

The guardian's wizened faces peered at Torren-Wraeth as he walked through the temple. Perhaps, it was incorrect to say that they were '_in_' the temple, as one passed over the threshold they entered a pocket dimension, similar to the Dimensionally Transcendental TARDIS units used by the Time Lords. The small temple opened into a vast museum/library that stretched for miles in several directions. It was controlled in such a way that time did not pass, nothing would rot, rust or decay. The things stored here were far too valuable for that, this place held the history and the future of humanity...

Torren-Wraeth stopped before a display, inside was an antique Kaga Kyomitsu. It's value was beyond price, even broken as it was. He did not lift it out, though he wanted to hold it, he felt somewhat... _Unworthy_... He'd always admired Okita Sojiro, he'd been hardly more than a boy, (and a dying boy at that, choking on his own blood from tuberculosis), when he'd led elite warriors bravely into battle with skill and courage worthy of the true_ samurai_. Torren-Wraeth had not particularly agreed with either side in the Japanese revolution, but he respected those who displayed honor and courage on both sides. Not that all held true to their code, there were betrayals, cowardice and outrageous acts of cruelty, but most of the men fought with honor. Not like the_ later _years, the brutal campaigns against Korea and China where honor meant nothing to far too many men who dared compare themselves to _samurai_. They had the honor of dogs, Goro had said. Murder of civilians, rape as a weapon of war, they were_ worse_ than dogs. He believed that this was when Goro had begun to slowly die, in spirit if not in body... He couldn't bear to see his homeland sinking into degradation and dishonor.

The Half-Blood gazed at the weapon with a reverence mingled with sadness. It was a national treasure from a nation that no longer existed. Someday, he would return it, he would return all of it, that humanity might remember life before the Rise of R'Lyeh. He moved on, past other weapons that were doubtless priceless, past relics of Egypt, Babylon, America, Rapa Nui. Many, _most_, of these items had been stolen, it had been _necessary_ to take them, before the Arising. He had _saved _them from destruction. He was _not_ a thief, he was a guardian.

"Everything is in pristine condition," He said quietly, "You do your work well." "Thank you, lord." The Guardian was meticulous, everything was clean and in it's proper place. They would die rather than allow a single item to be taken without Torren-Wraeth's permission.

Paintings and statuary from Dali and Da Vinci, Matisse and the infamous ghoul painter Richard Upton Pickman, all carefully tended and protected by The Guardian.

Rows and rows of books, from Gutenberg's _Bible_ to the disgusting _Necronomicon_, bound in human skin. _The Book of Kells_, _The Voynich Manuscript_, which even he couldn't read, a copy of _The_ _King in Yellow_, a Hasturian Tome which his father would never have allowed him to read if he knew of it. The _Torah_, the _Koran_, Countless translations of _The Bible_, the _Tripitika_, the _Rig-Veda_, the _Kojiki_ and _Nihongi_... He had the largest collection of religious literature of anyone he knew... Everyone from Amish to Jehovah's Witnesses to Zoroastrians were represented. Well, _almost _everyone. He '_forgot_' to save certain works, maybe he didn't have the right to decide what deserved to be saved or destroyed, but he did so regardless. _The Protocols of the Elders of Zion_, _The Malleus Maleficarum_, the 13th volume of _The Revelations of Glaaki_, used to summon terrible Y'Golonac , (Torren-Wraeth may have been grateful to The Defiler for avenging Goro's honor, but he recognized that Y'Golonac was far too dangerous to have running around loose.), _Mein Kampf_ by Adolf Hitler, and a number of similar works, simply... _Vanished_... All were 'overlooked' in his preparations.

There were more than just religious books, of course. A priceless, original 1818 three volume set of Mary Shelley's _Frankenstein, Or The Modern Prometheus_ one of only 500 printed, possibly the last copies in existence. Classics and comics, it was all there.

All the random little things he and Goro had collected from around the world during their travels sat in a small shrine. Most of Goro's possessions had gone, naturally, to his family upon his death, but these were _his_ memories... A few ivory, silver and jade figures, a few changes of clothes, a Japanese ink print, a small Chinese carving of a frog. He picked up the little icon, _In Daoism, the frog is a symbol of immortality_, he thought sadly, and held it in his hand for a moment. These things would not be given to humanity, these were Goro's things, his memories, not to be shared. He sat the little frog down next to a little image of Ganesha that Goro had found amusing while they were in India.

Suddenly he felt very tired, he shouldn't have come here, drudging up the past, he needed to let go, he needed to let Goro rest in peace and allow _himself_ to live again... He was so tired of the sadness... He lay upon the floor, curled his wings around himself, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

To be continued...

_Notes_:

I make no apologies towards those Japanese soldiers (Or anyone else) who engaged or continue to engage in the awful things I mentioned above, but it's certainly worth pointing out that many Japanese _did_ fight with honor and _did not_ commit atrocities. I mean no insult toward those _true_ warriors, but as for the rapists, the murderers, I think Goro said it all...

Speaking of True Warriors_,_

_Okita Sojiro:_

He was born around 1842-1844 and died in 19th July 1868

His full name is_ Okita Sojiro Fujiwara no Kaneyoshi_ or _Okita Sojiro Fujiwara no Harumasa_. I'm not sure which is technically more appropriate... He was a child prodigy, became a soldier at nine and an fencing instructor at 12, a captain of the Elite Shinsengumi in his teens and died of tuberculosis at about 25 years of age. His sword, broken in battle during a conflict early in the war, _did_ go missing shortly after his death, and to this day it has never been found... I have a rather idealized image of him, and picture him as representing a paragon of the samurai way. I sincerely hope I didn't get anything too wrong or offend any of his fans. That was most definitely not my intent.

Why didn't Torren-Wraeth 'forget' the_ Necronomicon_? Possibilities include:

1. Though it can be used to summon great evil, it also has spells and symbols that tell how to repel or even defeat such entities. Therefore he saw it as a necessary evil.

2. Since he's not truly human, he may not view it as particularly dangerous, as entities that are inimical to humans are fairly harmless, even friendly, to him.

_The Malleus Maleficarum_ is a real book, written by Jakob Sprenger and Heinrich Kramer in 1486, it was a guide to hunting witches, werewolves, etc, and caused the murder of approximately 9 million people.

_The Protocols of The Elders of Zion_ is a real book/pamphlet as well, written in 1903, and filled with blatant and ridiculous lies about a Jewish conspiracy to conquer the world. It played a large part in the Holocaust in which approximately six million Jews were murdered. It's author remained cravenly anonymous.

_Ganesha:_

An Eastern deity of art, literature, beginnings, the remover of obstacles. He's best known in the West for being portrayed with the head of an elephant.

_The Guardian_:

They have twelve names, one for each head.

Alignment- Lawful Neutral

Class- Archivist, Scholar

They are obsessive creatures, keeping whatever task that is assigned faithfully and to the letter. They would use their last breath to fulfill their task, ignoring injury or pain. Torren-Wraith recruited them from their home world of Vasta.

_Time Lords_ and the_ TARDIS_ belong to the BBC

_Glaaki, Y'Golonac_ and _The Revelations of Glaaki_ were created by Ramsey Campbell, and The Guardian is based on a nameless creature from his story "_The Insects From Shaggai_".

_Richard Upton Pickman_ was created by H.P. Lovecraft in his short story '_Pickman's Model_'

_Adolf Hitler_ belongs to Satan


	7. Chapter 7

The Great Arising

7

"The Mother accepts your offering." Thrash said solemnly, it's bellowing voice rattling the bone alter, nearly drowning out Grix's piping, "You will have good hunting this year, and food for winter. Ia! Shub-Niggurath, The All Mother!" The assembled Va-gas shouted as one, "Ia! Shub-Niggurath!" It was the hunter's moon, a holy night for the Va-gas. Torren-Wraeth watched his counterpart go through the motions required of a Divine Proxy, praising the people's faith, imparting the deity's blessing. The Dark Young had arrived after a short ritual involving the sacrifice of a horse, which it had promptly devoured. Thrash, like all Dark Young, stood upon three massive legs ending in cloven hooves, it's mid-section almost resembled the trunk of a tree, if not for the gaping, drooling maws, and the upper body was a mass of tentacles, like swaying branches on a bloated tree. The whole mass was jet black in color._ I would speak with the son of Cthulhu._ Thrash spoke in Torren-Wraeth's mind, _Follow me into the wood._ With that it turned, and pounded back into the forest, the ground trembling beneath it's hooves. Torren-Wraeth followed gladly, he did not like to watch the rites of Shub-Niggurath...

Torren-Wraeth waited politely for Thrash to speak. Finally, the proxy spoke, "The Mother likes you. You possess courage and intelligence, qualities rarely seen, and even more rarely seen _together_." "I'm flattered to have attracted such attention." Knowing Shub-Niggurath, Torren-Wraeth was a bit dubious, The Black Goat of the Woods was first and foremost a _fertility_ deity, she represented, among many other things, carnal, raw sexuality. "By what do you mean, _like_?"

As if on cue, a female creature emerged from the woods, a slender, scaled body with hoofed feet and a long, tufted tail. Ebony horns curled from her straight red hair. _Goat-Spawn_. One of the other forms of child produced by Shub-Niggurath. She was very attractive, all Goat-Spawn were, and completely nude. Her eyes were pure black, her forked tongue flickered as she spoke. She stroked Torren-Wraeth's cheek with a black-clawed hand, "I am Shalla, one of The Thousand." She purred, "You would make a fine mate. The Mother admires you, she would be honored, as would I, to add your seed to our ever growing family." She frowned slightly, apparently something in his face, some expression troubled her. She said soothingly, "Perhaps... You're still too _young_." Was he _afraid_? He wasn't sure, but he certainly felt too young, and his memories of Goro's nightmares had given him a poor view of physical relationships. "Perhaps, in a few centuries..." She faded back into the darkness. Thrash was gone as well. Torren-Wraeth could hear the sounds of celebration, see the light of the bonfire through the trees. He simply shook his head, and flew back to R'Lyeh.

"Is the Dread Cthulhu afraid of _me_, Chxixsas?" The tone was one of mocking innocence, The Bloated Woman waved her Black Fan seductively. "He... _Respects_ your power." Chxixsas hollow voice said evenly, "As do I." Chxixsas had been forced to take a much smaller form to fit within the monastery, six feet, nine inches, one inch shorter than the Bloated Woman, a show of respect. Ho Fong watched the strange figure, an inky black form with long white hair and a white face that called to mind mythical Japanese demons. The Goddess draped a tentacle over the 'shoulders' of that living ink, and leaned against his 'ear' "The Crawling Chaos sees all, hears all. I represent only a small part of the larger whole. My coming child with Tektaktequataquarl concerns Cthulhu greatly, even as it concerns Hastur." The Bloated Woman laughed, "They've been so distracted with despising each other that they've ignored the actions of their children. Perhaps this coming child will be the seed of their destruction, perhaps it will be chaos incarnate." She slid the tentacle slowly, seductively, across Chxixsas' form, "Or perhaps it will merely be a child. I haven't decided." Chxixsas brought a clawed hand toward his bone-white face, "You do not make that decision."

"Don't I?"

"The Goddess is all-powerful!" Ho Fong shouted angrily.

"Not entirely. Children do not always obey. Several offspring of various forms of The Crawling Chaos have rejected it. And I believe the _father_ may have much more to do with this than you might wish." Chxixsas slipped fluidly around the Bloated Woman, "And, as you yourself pointed out, you are only a small part of the whole. In this form a _mortal_ could defeat you." The Bloated Woman snarled, then quickly regained her composure, "You are treading upon dangerous ground." "Perhaps, but it _is_ the truth." The Bloated Woman laughed, "What do _you_ think of this, Chxixsas? Do you believe that I favor Hastur or Cthulhu?" Chxixsas tapped his face with a long black claw, producing an odd, hollow sound, "I believe you _truly _favor none but yourself."

"You are as wise as they say."

"Do you have any feeling at all for the Hastur-Spawn? Or is this just a grand jest for your amusement?"

The Bloated Woman was silent for a moment, "I am... _Fond_ of Tektaktequataquarl."

Chxixsas mask-like face betrayed no emotion, but Ho Fong was hot with rage.

To be continued...

_Notes_:

I don't know if Dark Young have genders, and all Goat Spawn that I've seen depicted were female. There may be male Goat Spawn, but I've only seen five individuals, at least three of which were painted by the same artist, Katherine Dinger, with '_Albino Goat Spawn_' being painted in two different poses, one of which was used for the Call of Cthulhu LCG card of the same name. There's also an Arkham Horror board game miniature '_Goat Spawn_'. They were all female.

I know almost nothing about the race, and have found no information about them.

_Thrash_:

Height- 25'

Weight: 2.1 tons

Alignment- Neutral

Class- Divine Proxy

An average Dark Young, when not acting as a proxy it prowls the forest, hunting wild animals.

_Shalla_:

Height-5'7"

Weight- 126 pounds

Alignment- Neutral

Class- Druid

She's a wild creature of the forest who lives both for pleasure and to further the interests of her Mother. She's very much like a mythical _Nymph_... Her goal is to spawn more children to serve the Mother.

_Thrash _and_ Shalla_ are my inventions, _Dark Young_ and _Goat Spawn_ are not.

_Dark Young_ were created by August Derleth

_The Bloated Woman_ and _Ho Fong _belong to Larry Ditillio and Chaosium

_Glaaki, Y'Golonac_ and _The Revelations of Glaaki_ were created by Ramsey Campbell, and The Guardian is based on a nameless creature from his story "_The Insects From Shaggai_".

_Va-gas_ were created by Edgar Rice Burroughs


	8. Chapter 8

The Great Arising

8

Hastur paced the gilded floors of his grand palace at Carcosa, his tattered yellow robes flapping behind him. Tektaktequataquarl stood by silently, the masked dancers who normally held the floor were absent, the 'servitor' musicians were silent and absent. For the first time in centuries, Carcosa was utterly silent. The bright flames of the braziers cast long, eerie shadows where none should be. The King turned, and though he had no face, Tek could sense his father's tension. "What do you feel with regards to the child?" His voice boomed throughout the palace, echoing down empty halls. "It is mine, father. I don't think there is cause for concern." Hastur shook his head, "How can you trust an avatar of Nyarlathotep?" "I love her." "By The Yellow Sign! Many have loved their murderers, child. The Bloated Woman has seduced and devoured many mortal men. She is not to be trusted." Tek stood beside his father, The King In Yellow was three times the height of a normal human, and Tek's current form reached his shoulders, "I have faith in my seed. Nyarlathotep's thousand masks have produced many children, few are truly a threat." "Did you learn anything from Cthulhu's child?" "Torren-Wraeth came as my guest, not as a proxy for his father. He was polite, as always, and said nothing of his father. He seemed unconcerned, he actually fell asleep during my visit." Hastur said nothing concerning his son's friendship with the child of his enemy, Torren-Wraeth was inoffensive, harmless, almost likeable. He was also a good, if unwitting, source of information on his father's mood. If he was so at ease as to fall asleep...

"He was attacked by some lunatic sorcerer and struck with_ The Dread Curse of Azathoth_, by the time he arrived at the Monastery he was exhausted. That was why he fell asleep, not disinterest. After he left, Cthulhu sent Chxixsas to speak with The Bloated Woman. I think the Lord of R'Lyeh shares your fears, especially as his cult, at least the human segment, is led by a small band who live in the very shadow of The Bloated Woman."

The Cult of Cthulhu was led by a small group of immortal Chinese sorcerers who dwelled in the majestic mountains of that beautiful land, a land to which The Bloated Woman also laid claim. Hastur seemed to consider for a moment, "She is trying to play us against one another, hoping we may stage a conflict for her amusement." "There is hardly any need for that, father. You and Cthulhu need no excuse or pretense to fight one another. You simply do so." Hastur did not deign to reply to that barb.

_Come to Arkham..._

That was what he'd been told, and that was what he'd done. Arkham was a small community, but it was growing as humans began to grow again in numbers. Some ancient, pre-cataclysm buildings still stood side by side with their newer neighbors, and cobblestone streets wound through the city, leading to, (depending on which path you took), Dunwich, Billington's Woods, the local sustenance farms, and the cemetery. Ghouls walked freely down the streets, eliciting little reaction. They were, after all, just another type of human, and compared to many of the _other_ things that walked and flew and slithered across the broken earth, they were considered men... Some of_ those_ things prowled the streets as well, a rat-thing carrying a package that dripped scarlet, several Deep One hybrids hauling fish to market, other, less-describable things... People noticed Torren-Wraeth, a few made perfunctory bows or adulation toward his father, but most were so busy they ignored him. He didn't have to wait long for his summoner.

Even the ghouls stared as the tall, slim figure passed them on the dark street. The boy was easily recognizable. Late in the twentieth century, Nyarlathotep had taken an interest in Japan, and, in it's_ Joker_ persona, manipulated events at a high school, snaring the students in a bizarre conspiracy that had eventually backfired, with the children defeating it's avatar and humiliating it greatly. _Several times._ Torren-Wraeth couldn't help but smile at the thought of the mighty Nyarlathotep being repeatedly humbled by mere children. This boy was one of those children, at least, outwardly. His light blue school uniform was partially concealing a brown tunic with inverted orange pyramids and he wore a black armband. His slender, attractive face was bone white with blue lips and garish blue mascara, set off by blue hair with a white streak in the front, and several silver bands encircled his throat. _Mishina Eikichi_. Of course, the real Mishina Eikichi had died centuries ago, this was someone, something else that had assumed his form... Something with pale blue eyes... "_Chxixsas?_" The Shadow Sage spread his arms wide, "What do you think of my new avatar?" Torren-Wraeth looked closer, and realized that the 'boy' wasn't wearing any cosmetics at all. His skin _was_ bone white, his lips and eyelids deep blue, his fingernails jet black. "I think you really stand out." Torren-Wraeth said wryly, "Is there any particular reason you're here, other than to show off?" Chxixsas smiled, "I... The true Chxixsas... am needed by your father's side. It's about time I developed an avatar, anyway." He began to walk, and Torren-Wraeth fell into stride, "Your father does love you, you know. It's just that he cannot express it in the same way a human parent could." Torren-Wraeth sighed, "I doubt I'd have noticed if he did try. I've been grieving for Goro for so long..." 'Eikichi' put an arm around the half-Blood's shoulders, "It's natural for a human, or for most races, to grieve for the loss of a loved one." His expression was somewhat comforting, "Time does _not_ heal all wounds. Even Great Cthulhu himself has known grief. But to survive, we have to get past it. It's been almost six hundred earth years since..." He paused, speaking carefully, "It's time to move on, make new friends. begin to live again. Despite what your father says, he's glad that you have a friend, even if he is Hastur-Spawn." He paused, "I thought, perhaps, that _we_ might become friends as well." Torren-Wraeth was somewhat surprised at that, "Perhaps... What should I call you?" "_Eikichi_, I suppose." He examined the black nails on his pale right hand, displaying a gold Ouroboros ring.

"Why imitate Eikichi-kun?" Torren-Wraeth asked, as they sidestepped a fat, man-sized worm-like thing with a puffy human face. Eikichi shrugged, "I just liked his style."Torren-Wraeth laughed, "And you wanted to rub Nyarlathotep's thousand faces in it..." "Not at all!" Eikichi held up two pale fingers, crossed as a sign of truth, while the other hand was behind his back, doubtless also crossed against the lie...

To be continued...

Notes:

The events in Japan referred to are, of course, the events of the_ Persona _video game series. I place them as late 20th century because that's when the first game came out. I'm not sure what, if any, time period the game's designers had in mind.

'Children' is a relative term. To me 15 and 16 year olds are children.

Did Chxixsas choose a Japanese form to psychologically manipulate Torren-Wraeth's attachment to that country?

The _Ouroboros _is the symbol depicting a serpent eating it's own tale. It represents eternity, endless cycles of life, or immortality.

_Rat-Things_ are rats with human faces and human hands instead of paws. _Brown Jenkin_ from _Dreams in The Witch-House_ by H.P. Lovecraft was a rat-thing. According to Chaosium, rat-things are cultists whose souls have been magically transferred into the bodies of rats at the moment of death.

_Mishina Eikichi, Joker_ and _Persona_ are copyrighted Atlus Company Ltd.

In_ The Call of Cthulhu_, H.P. Lovecraft claimed that the 'Cthulhu Cult' was led by a group of 'Immortal Chinamen' (He was never very politically correct), who dwelled in the mountains of China. Presumably they still do.

_Hastur, Carcosa, The King in Yellow_ and _The Yellow Sign_ were created by Robert W. Chambers.

_The Bloated Woman_ belongs to Larry Ditillio and Chaosium

_Chxixsas, Tektaktequataquarl_ and _Torren-Wraeth_ are my creations


	9. Chapter 9

The Great Arising

9

September 1st, 2042 by the old Gregorian calender.

Four generations gathered together in the modest house where their patriarch lay dying. Torren-Wraeth was there, too, for he was family as well. Everyone knew what he was, no-one cared, especially not now. "Torren-kun." Goro said softly, and Torren-Wraeth sat by his side, taking a thin, brown hand ravaged by time. Goro's handsome brown face was a maze of wrinkles, his sparkling black eyes were dulling by the hour now... "Yes, Goro-chan?" He nearly choked on his words, he felt the pain growing greater inside him, he knew it would be soon, Goro spoke only two words, "_Thank you_." The light dimmed within those brown eyes, and the life faded like morning mist. He was gone. As the family began to wail their grief, Torren-Wraeth, stunned, held on to that wizened hand as it grew cold. The tears ran down his face in torrents, and he began to howl his pain to the heavens. Yokohama shook with that anguished cry, and many wept from the palpable sadness it carried upon the cold night winds...

Many years later.

Torren-Wraeth and Eikichi stood over Goro's grave in New Yokohama. Torren-Wraeth had moved it there, before it could be lost beneath the waves of the great cataclysm. Eikichi ran a slender hand through his blue and white hair as Torren-Wraeth knelt down and stared at the memorial stone. He ran a slim hand across the cold surface, "Thank you, Goro-chan, and good-by." He straightened and looked around at the blossoming cherry tree planted beside the grave. It was time to go. He wouldn't be looking back anymore. He'd remember, he'd always remember, but it was time to put the past in the past and let Goro rest in peace. Eikichi opened a portal, and the two stepped through, followed by a few stray petals from the mourning tree...

Notes:

The use of '_chan_' in this instance is one of utmost affection, not to belittle or show lesser status.

_Mishina Eikichi_:

Height- 6'1"/185cm (Official Game stats for the original Eikichi)

Weight- 136 pounds/62kg (Official Game stats for the original Eikichi)

Class- Avatar of Chxixsas

Alignment- Neutral

Eikichi is an avatar of Chxixsas, Great Old One and Adviser to Great Cthulhu, based on the character of Mishina Eikichi from the _Persona_ video games, which are real in this universe. He's _not_ the_ real_ Mishina Eikichi. He's an aspect of Chxixsas, and he has whatever powers Chxixsas chooses to give him. Chxixsas as Eikichi can alter his height, weight, etc.

_Mishina Eikichi:_ (Video Game Version)

A.K.A.

Captain Death/_Shinitaicho_?

Michelle (English version)

Rhadamanthus

Hades

Height- 185cm (As of 1999)

Weight- 62kg (As of 1999)

Blood Type- O

Birthday- 11/15/1983

Sign- Scorpio

Group- _Gas Chamber_

Alignment- Chaotic Good

Class- Warrior-Bard

Student at Kasugayama High (For juvenile delinquents), 'gang' leader and member of the band _Gas Chamber_. He acts very, _very_ vain, but he actually has very low self-esteem. He cares deeply about his friends. He's stronger than he looks and a good fighter. Dyes his hair every morning and hides his 'bad-boy' persona from his family.

The _year_ of his birth comes from subtracting his age, 16, from the year 1999, when the game was first published in Japan.


	10. Chapter 10

The Great Arising

10

"_The children of the Gods are many and varied, and the children of mortals and Gods are even more-so. There is no 'typical' God-Child, all are unique, in form and in spirit. _

_Wilbur Whateley, son of great Yog-Sothoth and a pitiful woman named Lavinia Whateley, in an act of supreme shame, murdered his own mother as an act of human sacrifice. On the other hand, Torren-Wraeth, son of Dread Cthulhu, saved my ancestor, Goro-sama, from a life of misery and pain, and by all accounts loved him as life itself, and he continues to protect my family even now. While Whateley was a being without honor, Torren-Wraeth highly values his ideals and sense of honor."_

_Kidoumaru_ by Yoshida Kaein

Chxixsas stood silently beside his nephew, watching events through the eyes of his avatar, Eikichi. Great Cthulhu seemed impatient, his claws flicking, his feelers swaying back and forth like trees in a hurricane. "It will be soon, Lord."

The day had come, The Bloated Woman was about to give birth. Tektaktequataquarl stood by quietly in her private sanctuary as the female cultists prepared her. Ho Fong was the most nervous being in the room, clearly distressed at the thought of his goddess enduring pain. This was needless, as The Bloated Woman felt little discomfort in giving birth.

Torren-Wraeth and Eikichi stood staring at the large copper doors leading to the goddess private chamber. The monks of The Order of The Bloated Woman had all gathered in the main room, awaiting news on the goddess' newest child. Torren-Wraeth had no idea if Eikichi was actually looking _through_ the doors, informing Chxixsas of the proceedings, who, in turn, would inform Cthulhu. The gaudily dressed avatar looked out of place among the yellow and black garbed monks.

The doors opened, and Tek and Ho Fong emerged, with Tek cradling the infant...

The face was almost human, but the body was a mass of long, slender tentacles attached to a thick trunk, from which several eyes blinked and a few mouths bawled. Tek was positively glowing, and Ho Fong seemed relieved. "Behold! The Child of The Goddess!"the fat monk bellowed, and the other monks knelt before the child. "Male, female, or other?" Eikichi asked casually, Tek laughed, "Both. A self-fertilizing hermaphrodite, just like his father." The Bloated Woman waddled into the room, seemingly unaffected by the birthing process, and the monks put their faces to the stone floor. Tek strode proudly over to Torren-Wraeth and let him see the baby more closely. "Have you decided on a name?" Torren-Wraeth asked, as a tentacle wrapped around his outstretched finger. "I was thinking, Naoltaba. You know, after the priest from _The King in Yellow_..." "What does the mother say?" Eikichi asked, and Tek turned to look at him, an odd expression on his face. "She..._ Agrees_ with the name." Naoltaba wrapped a tentacle around Eikichi's right wrist and drew it close, his black eyes narrowing at the sight of the gold Ouroboros, and a jade Ouroboros appeared upon one of the baby's upper tentacles. Eikichi drew back in surprise...

To be continued...

_Notes:_

I _think_ that Kidoumaru means '_Perfect Demon Child_', though 'demon' is arguably a misnomer.

_Kidoumaru_:

Book

Author- Yoshida Kaein

Original Language- Japanese

The _Kidoumaru_ is a book that details the lives of various Half-Bloods, Torren-Wraeth in particular. It also lists and generally describes various Full-Blood Spawn; Children of Tsathoggua, Dark Young, Goat Spawn, Star Spawn of Cthulhu, etc...

_Naoltaba_:

Length/Height- 3' 9" (Including tentacles)

Weight- 20 pounds

Class- None

Alignment- Neutral

The child of Tektaktequataquarl and the Bloated Woman, powers, abilities and personality unknown.

The name _Naoltaba_ first appeared in '_The Repairer of Reputations' _by Robert W. Chambers and was given a story in '_More Light_' by James Blish

Goro now has a family name, _Yoshida_.

Yes, I named the _Kidoumaru_ after the six-armed character from _Naruto_. It seemed to fit, _if_ I have the translation right.

_Mishina Eikichi_ is copyright Atlus Company LTD

_Kidoumaru_ and _Naruto_ are copyrighted Masashi Kishimoto


	11. Chapter 11

The Great Arising

11

"There is an order of things, Torren-Wraeth." Eikichi stood on a steaming mass of volcanic rock, his school uniform un-singed by the incredible heat, "The tectonic forces are lifting up the land, while the vulcanism," he waved a pale hand, "Well, you can see for yourself." Torren-Wraeth stood barefoot on the steaming rock, as unaffected by the heat as his companion, He looked down at the land beneath his feet, he had not been here in centuries, it was too painful, "Japan will rise again. Many of the surviving islands will probably be melded together into an entirely new landmass." He looked wistfully into the distance, "It may even join with the mainland. But it will never be the same." Eikichi shrugged, "_Nothing_ remains the same, all things change. It is the nature of the universe." He put a friendly arm around the young Half-Blood's shoulder, "But you can rebuild it. _We_ can rebuild it. You saved so much of Japanese history, Japanese culture." He smiled broadly, "We can be caretakers! Once the rocks cool and the ground is relatively stable, we can begin seeding it. Why, in a few hundred years, with the help of various powers, this could be a living, breathing land of forests and fertile crops, just waiting for people to come. And they will come." Torren-Wraeth smiled.

Great Cthulhu was pleased, his son was improving. Torren-Wraeth had been plagued by sadness and grief for so long it had become an almost _morbid_ obsession, but now... "This avatar of yours is most effective, Chxixsas. Torren-Wraeth is already responding to his friendship." Chxixsas ghostly face and white hair appeared, shrouded in red and black, "I endowed this avatar with as many of the... _Human_ qualities that I could. It is still far too early to be certain of his affect on my great-nephew, but I am optimistic." Secretly, Chxixsas had some small doubts, Torren-Wraeth had accepted Eikichi almost without question, was he merely grasping for something, anything to tie him with his lost friend?

Eikichi had been granted as much of humanity as a non-human entity can bestow upon an avatar. His feelings and emotions were real, though he might sometimes misinterpret the appropriate emotional response to a situation. He had a great degree of freedom, and a will of his own, after a fashion. He was still merely a part of Chxixsas' consciousness, though, imbued with a life of it's own. Chxixsas had endowed him with high intelligence, as well, as The Shadow Sage valued knowledge far too much to create a foolish avatar. Oddly, he had chosen the form of a specific human being who had lived during the late 20th and on into the late 21st century. He had no idea, honestly, why he had chosen Mishina Eikichi over every other human being he'd ever seen to be the template of his avatar. He was far too wise to have re-created Yoshida Goro, Torren-Wraeth would have went mad with grief and rage. The young man (At the time period on which his avatar was based) had a look and... _Quality_ that seemed to fit that side of Chxixsas he never allowed himself to show. He was wild, rebellious, youthful and loud as well as being artistic, sensitive and intelligent. A juvenile Salvador Dali, perhaps? Added to this arsenal was his naivete` as neither Eikichi nor Chxixsas had experienced the sensations that this avatar, in his not-quite-human way, would explore. He had great knowledge, and no experience with life. A wise teacher and an eager student, as well as a companion. _Perfect..._

To be continued..


	12. Chapter 12

The Great Arising

12

_While the gods may at times seem malevolent or benevolent, in truth their minds and thought processes are so utterly alien to our own that one cannot rightly compare them against us. Their notions of love, hate, cruelty, kindness, if such exist at all, are on a level we humans cannot possibly conceive. While some avatars may express many human emotions, such as Nyarlathotep's ever-present vindictive malice, their ends are often enigmatical. The gods and full-blood children of gods who express a 'human' level of emotion, such as Tektaktequataquarl, are likely seen as mad by their own kind, just as we view as mad those who see and feel that which lies beyond normal human experience._

_Kidoumaru_

Yoshida Kaein

"Family life agrees with you." Torren-Wraeth laughed, and Tektaktequataquarl held Naoltaba close. The baby yawned from several mouths. "I've heard of _making_ friends," Tek said, watching Eikichi warily, "But isn't this a little much?" Eikichi's blue lips parted in a smile, "You don't trust me?" "You're an avatar of Chxixsas, adviser to Cthulhu, my father's enemy. I can't help but imagine that you've been sent here to spy on me." Eikichi shrugged, "You give me too much credit. I have no interest in such affairs, that's not why I was created. Other eyes watch you, mine are unneeded." Tek sighed, "Why is that _not_ comforting? And no doubt many of these eyes are also upon Naoltaba?" Eikichi walked across the room, his hard school shoes clicking on the stone floor of the monastery, "He is the child of Nyarlathotep and a grandchild of Hastur." His pale face leaned forward to look at the infant, "Of course everyone is excited about the birth." The baby was sleeping now, and Tek held him closer, distrust in his eyes. Torren-Wraeth put a hand on Eikichi's shoulder, "I think it's too early to be this... _Friendly_." Eikichi shrugged and backed away, "I was merely curious. I meant no harm." "Perhaps," Tek observed, "But what of Chxixsas himself?" "Chxixsas is a peaceful being, violence is not in his nature." Torren-Wraeth pointed out. "But his _master_ is not." Tek countered. Torren-Wraeth hated when their respective fathers came up, specifically their feud. Though long friends and above the fray, so to speak, both spawn had a sore spot between loyalty to friend and loyalty to parent. This specific unease was, of course, due to new elements, Eikichi and Naoltaba. Both were mysteries.

"I don't like it. There's something about that pale Japanese boy..." Ho Fong observed, "He is not Japanese, nor is he a 'boy', not a_ human_ boy, anyway." The Bloated Woman lounged upon her thick cushions, "He is an avatar of Chxixsas, The Shadow Sage. He is a..._ Playmate_ for Cthulhu's child, nothing more." She inhaled deeply of The Black Lotus in her hookah, "No, what _truly_ concerns you is Tektaktequataquarl. You're _jealous_." She laughed, "It's so flattering to have two suitors vying for my affections." She slid a tentacle across the monk's face seductively, "Don't worry, ours is not an _exclusive_ relationship."

Torren-Wraeth cradled Naoltaba in his arms, "Have you taken him to see his grandfather yet?" Tek nodded, "Yes, I carried him to Carcosa. My father was very pleased, a strong, healthy child." Tek did not mention the previous fear that had gripped The King in Tatters before the birth, he was now nearly certain that the child was harmless, but as for the mother... Tek leaned wearily against the wall, "The goddess... She has so little concern for Naoltaba. She has had many children, many mates... I _knew_ when I..." He shook his head, "She'll never be what I hoped for. A wife, a partner, a soul-mate. She thinks... She thinks these notions are _ridiculous_. Even now she is dallying with Ho Fong." Torren-Wraeth looked down at the infant, "I'm sorry. I know you love her. I'm sure she..." He didn't know what to say. "You have a beautiful, powerful child, and the Bloated Woman will accept you whenever you desire..." Eikichi began. "But not _alone_." The golden angel looked haggard, "I think... I think I will take Naoltaba to Carcosa and raise him there."

"Does love _always_ end in pain?" Torren-Wraeth sat on his bed and looked out over the insane geometry of R'Lyeh. Eikichi stood in the doorway, a thin silhouette against the madness. "Not always. But with mortals... The humans have a saying, _Memento Mori_, 'Remember that you will die'. Death inevitably separates mortals."

"This does not involve mortals."

Eikichi walked down to his new bed, literally grown from the floor of the chamber. "True. But I don't think you were referring exclusively to _this_ situation."

Torren-Wraeth lay back and looked out at the stars, Aldebaran was visible, bringing to his mind Carcosa, Hastur, _Tek_...

"She never loved him. Nor did she love the child. It is not possible for her, The Crawling Chaos is above all else_ selfish_." Eikichi lay back, his arms behind his head, "You, on the other hand, are _truly_ capable of love, more-so even than many mortals. You loved Goro enough to let him go, even though it nearly destroyed you, rather than force him to live a life he no longer desired."

Torren-Wraeth was silent, staring up at the pitiless stars.

After a time, Torren-Wraeth sat up on his bed and looked over at Eikichi. This was a difficult thing, for both of them. An avatar is both an individual and an extension of it's creator's will. A small part of the whole. "Eikichi... Mishina Eikichi-San _died _over six hundred years ago."

Eikichi's blue lips pursed tightly, "I am not him. He was just the... Template, for this form. Nor am I merely one of Chxixsas' eyes. I don't know why the hell he chose this form. Neither does he." Pale blue eyes turned to look at Torren-Wraeth, "Does this form displease you?"

"Do I displease you, Torren-Wraeth-Kami?" Goro's brown eyes were wide. "No! I it's not _that.._. I can't... You're more than just a _body_, Goro. You shouldn't have to live this way. It's not _right_." Goro shrugged weakly, "It is the way I have to live. I have no choice. My father was a _fisherman_, not a _Kami-Sama_. I was sold when my parents died..." "No one has that right!" Torren-Wraeth said, perhaps a bit too angrily, "_No one_ has the right to take your life away from you." "Yet they _do_." Goro was fatalistic to a fault, "What can _I_ do? Refuse and be beaten? Or worse?" Torren-Wraeth sighed , "I'm sorry I shouted..., The ways of mortals... _confuse_ me. But I promise you, as long as we live, no one will lay a hand on you unless you will it." Goro straightened his kimono and smiled, but Torren-Wraeth knew that he didn't believe him, he'd heard it before, from people who'd made promises and used him in the vilest way possible. He took him by the wrist and looked into his eyes, "I _swear_ to you, by _The Key and The Gate_, anyone who lays a hand upon you will suffer _my_ wrath in life and my_ father's_ in death!" For the first time in years, Goro felt a glimmer of hope...

"Torren-Wraeth? Torren-Wraeth?" Eikichi's pale, concerned face swam into view, "Are you alright?" "Just... Just a _memory_." He shook it off, he'd kept his word, and more. He'd sent Y'Golonac after those who had abused Goro in the past, and their deaths were slow and horrible, their afterlives even worse. He'd protected Goro from that knowledge, even as he'd protected him from harm until the day he died... "No, it's... It's not your form... I just want to know... _who_ you are..."

Eikichi smiled grimly, "_I_ don't even know who I am," White teeth clashed against powder blue lips, "We will have to discover that together.' He ran a white hand through his blue white hair, "I am _not_ Mishina Eikichi, at least, not the one born in 1983. I was created a few months ago, just before we met. I won't change, unless I want to. We will grow up together, maybe." He put a long arm around Torren-Wraeth's shoulder, "If you want."

"Your life is not mine to determine, you are_ not_ my slave. Live as_ you_ want, not as I want."

"I... _Don't_ know what I want."

"Then we will discover that together," Torren-Wraeth smiled, white teeth against green lips, "That is, if_ you_ want..."

To be continued...

Notes:

As previously stated, Goro was a slave and a prostitute, I'm not sure of the Japanese term. He was chosen by divination and assigned to serve Torren-Wraeth in_ any_ way he desired. Torren-Wraeth took him with him when he left Japan, but he never had _that_ kind of relationship with him. I won't give any statistics for him, as he aged and changed and eventually died. But I will give a brief description, he was not a porcelain _bishonen_, he was quite dark and well-built. He was not particularly 'beautiful', he was just a normal kid from a fishing community.

Torren-Wraeth can speak most languages fluently, with Rapa Nui and Cthul being his native tongues, but he usually speaks flawless Japanese with a Yokohama accent.

In case you're wondering, the original Mishina Eikichi (From the_ Persona_ video game series) had a long and happy life. And, speaking of Eikichi, should this be considered a _Cross-Over_ story? This Eikichi is not the same person, but he's based on the _Persona_ character, who did exist in this story.

_The Bloated Woman_ and _Ho Fong_ belong to Chaosium and Larry Ditillio.

_Y'Golonac_, again, belongs to Ramsey Campbell.

_Mishina Eikichi_ and _Persona_ are copyrighted to Atlus Company Ltd.


	13. Chapter 13

The Great Arising

13

Torren-Wraeth awoke to find light green eyes gazing into his own. Many light green eyes. "What in...?" "He's a pet." Eikichi said cheerfully, as Torren-Wraeth sat up to survey the strange creature. It resembled a over-sized, lumpy human head, complete with chubby face and double chins. But this head was it's own body, it floated in thin air, and it's shiny pink form was covered in light green eyes. A number of protuberances on it's wrinkly body gave the appearance of stubby eye-stalks, but it had eyes _everywhere_, in place of a nose, a crooked green eye. Broad lips on a toothless mouth parted to reveal yet another eye, on the_ tongue..._ "Chxixsas found it in a the ruined lair of some mad sorcerer centuries ago, his master was dead, he was almost dead, some fool had shot him, but death is no hindrance to beings of such power as The Shadow Sage. He's been living in _The Shadow Library_ ever since." The creature's broad mouth curved in a somewhat comical smile.

Torren-Wraeth looked at the lumpy face with the odd smile, and smiled back, " What's your name?" _No Name_ The reply was telepathic. _Only Guardian_. "You need a name. How about, Dodomeki?" The Dodomeki, a mythical Japanese monster with a body covered in eyes, seemed appropriate. _Dodomeki._ It replied. "He only has _limited_ intelligence, he was designed to be the sorcerer's eyes, patrolling his lair, not a familiar." Eikichi sat on the bed beside Torren-Wraeth, "If you concentrate, you can see through his eyes..." Torren-Wraeth closed his eyes, and suddenly he was looking at himself, Eikichi, the floor, roof, door and all walls in the room. He could see everything in the room, except for the creature now known as Dodomeki. When he opened his eyes, he could see him as well. He was looking into his own eyes through another's while looking the other in the eyes. It was a surreal experience, even to him.

Torren-Wraeth switched back to his own eyes. "Won't Chxixsas mind?" Eikichi laughed, "Chxixsas has many eyes, he can spare these, and _The Shadow Library _can protect itself, something Dodomeki, by the way, cannot do." _The Shadow Library_ was the seat of power for The Shadow Sage, where he stored eons of wisdom and artifacts from across the universe. Torren-Wraeth's little collection in Canada paled in comparison to _The Shadow Library_. "I guess _even_ sorcerers can contribute something useful to the world every once in a while..." He paused, admiring Dodomeki, then, "Why would anyone shoot such a wonderful creature?" Torren-Wraeth ran a hand across the creature's dorsal surface. It was dry and heavily ridged, with the tactile feel of rubber. "Well, I doubt the people the sorceror was watching wanted to be tracked, considering they eventually killed the old fool and destroyed his sanctum. He was some low-life mage with delusions of grandeur. It's amazing what a few thousand years of life can do to the human mind..." Torren-Wraeth's eyes narrowed, "What about the fool who shot him?" "He was eaten by an _Oni..._" Torren-Wraeth laughed, "Serves him right, eh, Dodomeki?" Dodomeki smiled, _Right_. "He's impervious to attack now, and he can fly a great deal higher and faster than his original master ever imagined." Eikichi stood up and ran a pale hand over the pink creature, then through his own blue-white hair, "I see you're pleased. An eye-covered floating head is a boy's best friend."

"Thank you, Eikichi-kun." Torren-Wraeth stood up and bowed politely toward Eikichi, Dodomeki dipped forward in imitation, and both boys laughed.

To be continued...

_Notes_:

What boy _doesn't_ want his own floating eye-covered head-creature? Torren-Wraeth does not view himself as Dodomeki's _owner_, as he opposes owning intelligent creatures.

An Oni is a _Japanese_ ogre, I know, but I don't know the equivalent _Chinese_ term.

_Dodomeki_ is the ghost of a pickpocket, with a body covered in eyes.

_Dodomeki_, is, of course, _The Guardian_ from the B-movie _Big Trouble in Little China_. Said Guardian itself was apparently based on Dungeons and Dragon's _Beholder _species. Why a creature with no fighting ability whatsoever is called a _Guardian_ is beyond me, _Watcher _would have been a better term. James Hong, who really _is _a great actor, played _Lo Pan_, the evil sorcerer who created the Guardian.

The fate of the hero, Jack Burton, (played by Kurt Russell), in the movie is debatable, he's last seen driving off with a monster (Called _The Chinese Wild Man_ or _The Chinese Ogre_) hiding in the back of his truck... For my story purposes, he was eaten by said monster. He shouldn't have shot the Guardian!

_Dodomeki_

The Eyes of Lo Pan (Former)

The Guardian

Nukekubi

Gender- Inapplicable (Referred to as male for easier writing.)

Race- Magical Aberration (An unnatural creature created by magic.)

Created by- Lo Pan (Deceased)

Height- 16"

Width- 14"

Weight- ?

Alignment- Lawful Neutral

Class- Companion, Observer (Formerly) Guardian, Spy

The Guardian was created by the evil sorceror Lo Pan to be his eyes throughout his massive hideout, and was shot and killed shortly before Lo Pan himself was slain. He was found and brought back by Chxixsas, out of curiosity, and set to patrol _The Shadow Library_, and now 'belongs' to Torren-Wraeth, who named him _Dodomeki_. Dodomeki is telepathic, fairly unintelligent and totally harmless.

_Torren-Wraeth, Chxixsas_ and _The Shadow Library_ are mine.

_The Guardian_ was created by John Carpenter, Gary Goldman, W.D. Richter and David Weinstein.

_The Guardian, Lo Pan_, _Jack Burton_ and _Big Trouble in Little China_ belong to John Carpenter and 20th Century Fox.

_Eikichi Mishina_ is copyright Atlus Company Limited.


	14. Chapter 14

The Great Arising

Chapter 14

She had been a beautiful woman, once. Indeed, among the Rapa Nui people, Te'ree had been considered a great beauty. Now she was barely recognizable, a vaguely humanoid mass of flesh and tentacles. A carbon-copy of The Bloated Woman. Torren-Wraeth could not remember what she had looked like before, before his father had changed her. She was now one of Great Cthulhu's many concubines, her humanity long lost beneath the influence of the Outer Gods .

Te'ree and Torren-Wraeth sat silently amongst the Moai that had stared out over the ocean for centuries, and now stared impassively at the walls of R'Lyeh. Few people lived on Rapa Nui now, most had been evacuated, now the island was home only to mad and twisted cultists, exulting in the glory of their god. Perhaps that was why he had not been to his birthplace in so long...

"It's been too long, child..."

Torren-Wraeth had no suitable answer for his mother, he had indeed not seen her in years...

"I _know_... I've been... _Distracted_."

"You are still in mourning?"

Torren-Wraeth shook his head, "I will always remember him, but I've realized that the time for mourning has passed. I need to start to live again."

A slender tentacle wrapped around the young man's shoulders, "That's good. Those like us, we must learn to cope with mortality. We are immortals with mortal blood... We feel in ways your father and his kin cannot. I too, have lost much..." She paused, closed her eyes for a moment, "You and I are all that is left of our people, the only ones who still know our language, our customs..."

To be brutally honest, Torren-Wraeth knew little of the Rapa Nui, only secondhand information from his mother and books he had read. He was far more familiar with Japan and it's people, and Japan was gone.

"Japan had a beautiful culture, in some ways," Te'ree said, softly, she was obviously aware of her son's thoughts, "But it also had a dark side, things so terrible that they drove your friend to his death..."

Torren-Wraeth sighed heavily, "All cultures are thus. There are no 'perfect' societies. Had father not come to earth, mankind would probably have destroyed itself. They need no help in learning to kill each other." He stood up and motioned his arms to indicate the island, "This island was once a paradise. Men killed it centuries before R'Lyeh lifted it from the sea. And once they'd killed the island, they slaughtered each other, until other men, stronger men, came and wiped them out."

Te'ree was silent for a moment, a tentacle clutched Torren-Wraeth's arm firmly. "As I said, we have both lost much."

"I'm sorry, mother," Torren-Wraeth's yellow eyes shimmered slightly, "I didn't mean to hurt you..."

"You spoke the truth..." She gave the equivalent of a smile, "I came to terms with our people's fate long ago. My heart still aches, true, but, as you said, we cannot mourn forever, we have to learn to live again..."

Torren-Wraeth leaned against the nearest Moai, green skin clashing with gray stone. He crossed his arms and took a deep breath, "Mother, _why_? Why did you... Father, he is...?"

"He is a _god_." Te'ree said wearily, she had knew this day would come, eventually, "Can you imagine the honor, a mortal mating with a god? And, he gave me you..."

"Did he..._Force_ you...?" There was chill in the boy's voice, the tendrils on his cheeks quivered.

"_Gods no_! He did not force me into anything." She shook her head, "It's sad, that _that_ is the only way you know of ... _Relations._ What happened to your friend... That was not the way most intelligent beings behave towards one another." She looked at him, sadness in her eyes, "It is a tragedy that your first knowledge of these things should come from such pain."

Torren-Wraeth lowered himself onto the grass, and there was silence for some moments.

"Do you love him, mother?"

"Yes."

"Does he love you?"

And then there was only the sound of the wind...

To be continued...

_Notes:_

Te'ree

Race: Human, Rapa Nui, Altered

Birthplace- Rapa Nui

Class- Divine Consort

Alignment- Neutral

Eyes- Black

Hair- Black

Height- Originally 5'2", now Variable

Weight- ?

The mother of Torren-Wraeth, she was originally a priestess of Cthulhu, but mated with one of his avatars and became one of his concubines. She was altered and became immortal, but lost her humanity.

Earlier I stated that Torren-Wraeth visited Rapa Nui often, but 'often' is a relative term for an immortal. Te'ree and Torren-Wraeth are likely not the last to bear Rapa Nui blood, but by this time the culture itself has vanished.


	15. Chapter 15

The Great Arising

Chapter 15

_Pilate said to him "What is truth?"_

John 18:38

_New World Translation of The Holy Scriptures_

That night, as he lay upon his bed, Torren-Wraeth thought of his father, an avatar of Great Cthulhu, similar in form to himself. He had the very human thought that, though the avatar was just an extension of Great Cthulhu, the massive being who ruled R'Lyeh was not his true father, the avatar was. Was his father really Cthulhu?

If not, he had not seen his father in many years...

He was familiar with avatars such as his friend Eikichi, tentative allies such as The Bloated Woman and Shugoran. He had _fought_ avatars on occasion, he had even _killed_ one, that daemonic clown who cruelly preyed upon children. Torren-Wraeth hated acts of violence, but some beings were simply too terrible, too irredeemably_ evil_ to be allowed to exist. It had been a vicious battle, literally claw and fang, and it was the first time Torren-Wraeth had ever seen his own blue blood. It was also the first time he had ever killed, or, at least, killed _personally*_... 27 years later _It_ had returned, and this time Torren-Wraeth was forced to call upon The Elder Gods, his father's sworn enemies, to banish the creature. It hadn't come back in all the centuries after that. Whoever it had represented still lived, though, and Torren-Wraeth was alert for It's return, having warded every inch of it's lair against evil. Great Cthulhu had been enraged that one of his children had called upon The Elder Gods, and to protect humans, at that, a rage tempered only by surprise that he had actually been_ answered_.

He had wondered about that himself. Chxixsas had implied, privately, that this incident, along with his immunity to the effects of The Elder Sign, meant that he had found favor with one or more of The Elder Gods, perhaps his uncle, Kthanid. He knew little of Kthanid, save he was Cthulhu's twin and enemy, and that he did all he could to aid mortals against the Great Old Ones.

He sat up in bed and saw the starlight glinting off Dodomeki's many eyes. The guardian did not sleep. He looked beyond to the unnaturally pale figure in the bed across the room. Torren-Wraeth wondered if Eikichi was actually sleeping, or merely pretending to sleep. He decided upon the latter, as he said nothing, had he been awake he would have spoken to him.

What was he? He did not believe himself evil, but others whom he considered far more... _Innocent_ were repelled by The Elder Sign. Millions of years had passed since The Great Old Ones had attempted to overthrow The Elder Gods, yet the distant descendants of the rebellious deep ones and other allies of The Great Old Ones still bore the punishment of their ancestors.

He had no doubt Eikichi would recoil at the sight of The Elder Sign. Yet, he was not evil, he was only a few months old. Naoltaba, a literal infant, doubtless bore the curse through his grandfather, Hastur, and his mother, The Bloated Woman, herself an avatar of Nyarlathotep. Even Torren-Wraeth's own mother bore the curse, due to her 'tainted' status.

Was he alone, then? He doubted it. There were likely many of the 'minion' races who still served The Elder Gods, and not all Great Old Ones had turned to follow The Outer Gods. Nightgaunts, for instance, were known to serve the Elder God Nodens as well as the Great Old Ones, particularly Yibb-Tstll. He could not imagine his uncle Tsathoggua rebelling against anything, he was far too lazy and indifferent to bother. Atlach-Nacha, the Spider God, obsessively weaved his endless web and didn't care what happened to the rest of the universe. Baoht Zuqqa-M'ogg, Bringer of Pestilence, was similarly indifferent to the rest of creation, especially since the destruction of his home world of Shaggai.

Perhaps he was a pawn, an unwitting tool in the endless war. The thought angered him, he was no one's puppet. If Kthanid was using him to infiltrate R'Lyeh, to learn it's secrets through his eyes, then his opinion of The Elder Gods would drop considerably. But did not Great Cthulhu do the same?

He went back to his bed, but could not sleep. He needed to get away, to forget himself, if only for a little while...

To be continued...

_Notes_:

The daemonic clown is, of course, _Pennywise_ from_ It_ by Steven King.

* Torren-Wraeth had killed indirectly before, by summoning_ Y'Golonac_ to kill the men who had abused Goro.

Why did Torren-Wraeth call upon The Elder Gods instead of The Outer Gods or his father? Because he suspected the being that he was fighting _was_ an avatar of one of The Outer Gods.

_Yibb-Tstll_

The Drowner

The Mother and Father of Nightgaunts

The Patient One

Gender- Asexual

Alignment- Chaotic Neutral or Chaotic Evil

Class- Great Old One

Realm- The Jungle of Kled, in The Dreamlands, The Center of Time and Space

Height- Approximately 25' (About three times the height of a man, according to the story.)

Weight- ?

Yibb-Tstll eternally revolves in a clearing in the Jungle of Kled, while Nightgaunts suckle from it's many breasts. Most of it's form is hidden by a tattered green cloak. It's eyes are not set in it's head, swimming about freely across it's terrible 'face'. It can grant great boons or great 'reversals' by it's touch, such as healing the insane or driving sane men hopelessly mad. It's blood, called 'The Black' can be summoned to drown/suffocate a victim, but the being itself almost never leaves it's realm. Some sources say it also dwells at The Center of Time and Space, and is second in knowledge only to Yog-Sothoth.

I rather like Yibb-Tstll, like Baoht Zuqqa-Mogg, it has great potential but is underused.

As for Alignment, it does good or evil at it's whim, so I was not certain where to put it.

_Pennywise_ _the Clown_ belongs to Steven King

_Atlach-Nacha _and_ Tsathoggua_ were created by Clark Ashton Smith

_Baoht Zuqqa-M'ogg _was created by Scott David Aniolowski and is Copyrighted to Chaosium and Fantasy Flight Games.

_Y'Golonac _and_ Shaggai _belong to Ramsey Campbell

_Kthanid _and_ Yibb-Tstll_ belong to Brian Lumley


	16. Chapter 16

The Great Arising

16

"_The least of gods shall tower over the mightiest of mortals, and Death shall reign over all."_

Inscription from the Tomb of Agadeem*

The inhabitants of New Yokohama were amazed by the three visitors. One was Torren-Wraeth, well-known to everyone in the city, as he had founded it. The second was a tall, deathly pale boy with blue-white hair, blue lips and eyelids, wearing an ancient light blue Japanese school uniform. The third was a Nukekubi, a flying head, though it was covered in eyes like the mythical_ Dodomeki_. Which, they had no way of knowing, was it's name. Torren-Wraeth was dressed in a formal kimono, (Red), heko obi, (Orange), and hakama, (Deep Red), with elevated, wooden sandals. They smiled, waved, bowed respectively. Here Torren-Wraeth was welcome. Here, he was at home.

New Yokohama was, in many ways, like _Old_ Yokohama. People lived simply, and for the most part dressed in the ancient fashions. Kimonos, yukata, hakama... For Torren-Wraeth, it was like going back in time. The class-distinctions he so hated, while still present, were loosened considerably. The crowded market was filled with colorful fruits and vegetables, meats and spices. Children ran and played among the shoppers. As they approached everything all but stopped, and Torren-Wraeth frowned, he knew it would always be this way. He was not human, he would always stand out, even here. Numerous people shouted in greeting or bowed politely, and he responded in kind. Several approached, asking about Eikichi and Dodomeki, Torren-Wraeth's new friends, and they all spoke as equals. A number of small children tried to playfully grab at Dodomeki, who bobbed and weaved around their small hands, smiling.

A storm raged through R'Lyeh, the winds shrieking unnaturally as they passed through the alien architecture of the black city. Lightning and rain fell from the swirling dark clouds, and tornadoes formed and dissipated in the stone streets. Spawn and Deep Ones sheltered within the black stone buildings, none of this concerned or affected Great Cthulhu. The storm posed no threat to R'Lyeh or it's high priest, in fact, it might help clean some of the persistent mud and muck from the city's lower levels. During the Worldquake that accompanied the Rise of R'Lyeh, hundreds of thousands of tons of dust, debris and ash had been propelled into the sky, permanently altering earth's climate and weather patterns. Jungles became deserts and deserts became jungles, with massive glacial movement, held back only by treaty with Ithaqua, The Wind Walker, threatening all. Cthulhu did not fear the cold, but it was uncomfortable, and many of his servants were susceptible to it's dangers.

But something was wrong.

Great Cthulhu felt an ill-wind blowing his way. Something was gathering, something that did not suit his purpose.

That wouldn't do at all.

They existed everywhere, in every society. Pitiful bands of freedom fighters and insurgents who worked, openly or through stealth, to drive out the Great Old Ones, their Spawn and their worshipers. To reclaim a world they thought was theirs. It was a lost cause, humans could never triumph over the least of the Great Old Ones.

Not without help.

The Elder Gods. _Nodens_, The Grim Hunter, _Kthanid_, twin to Great Cthulhu himself, _Bast_, Lady of Cats, _Vorvadoss_, The Kindler of The Flame and others, directly or indirectly worked with humanity to oppose their 'Evil' brethren. It was they who had imprisoned the Great Old Ones and Outer Gods, and it was they who had given man _The Elder Sign_ and other spells and wards to defend against everything 'corrupted' by their ancient enemies.

There had been such humans even before The Arising; Humans like Professor Henry Armitage, who'd slain Theophilus, Lavinia Whateley's other son by Yog-Sothoth, (Perhaps 'dispelled' being a more appropriate word, as he could not truly die. It was still unpleasant, however.) and the sorcerer Titus Crow, who, in league with others, had very nearly driven the Cthonians to extinction in a cruel pogrom, and worked with Kthanid in an attempt to destroy Cthulhu himself. The Wilmarth Foundation, Delta Green, The Blackwood Agency and even the Pinkerton Agency and the FBI. In the end their plans had come to naught.

R'Lyeh had risen anyway.

Yet they still endured, even here.

Eikichi stood back as Torren-Wraeth picked up a medium-sized disk bearing a pentagram with a flaming eye, one of several that had been set at the entrance of the Bunraku theater. "You can come out now." The pale youth pointed toward the stones, "Torren-Wraeth, would you please get rid of those..._ things_." Torren-Wraeth nodded and gathered up the half-dozen stones, slipping them into a small bag at his waist. Dodomeki hovered curiously beside him, and Torren-Wraeth noted with some satisfaction that he, too, was unaffected by the Sign. Several men stepped forwards, surprise evident on their faces. They were dressed in common garb, mixed into the crowd, they had hidden their minds well, but not well enough. "Torren-Wraeth-Sama." One of the men murmured, then all bowed politely, "Our apologies, we needed to see whether the rumors were true."

"What rumors?"

"That you are Favored of Kthanid-Kami-San" The leading man smiled, "It would appear to be true. A child of Cthulhu-" The man paused, gritting his teeth, "_Sama_ could never hold an Elder Sign unless favored by the Elder Gods."

It was true, the curses upon The Outer Gods and Great Old Ones were hereditary, falling upon their children and minions. By rights Torren-Wraeth should have been driven back, even as Eikichi was.

But he was unaffected.

"Kthanid-Kami told you this?" It was forbidden to use his uncle's name in R'Lyeh, such was the hatred of Cthulhu toward his brother. Even his enmity with Hastur paled in comparison to the utter loathing between the twins.

"In dreams." The man looked at Eikichi suspiciously, "We receive knowledge and blessings from the Ancient Ones."

"Then, surely you must know that it is impossible to defeat my father." This was not arrogance or threat, but merely a statement of fact. Torren-Wraeth could not conceive of his father being defeated by mortal resistance.

'The Elder Gods defeated him. They imprisoned him once, they can do so again."

Torren-Wraeth could not deny the fact that his father had been defeated, but that was by _gods_, not mortals.

"True." Torren-Wraeth shrugged, "But you are mortals, and who knows what the Elder Gods shall do? After all, if they had not imprisoned my father and all of R'Lyeh _here_ in the first place..."

"_You_ would not exist."Eikichi pointed out.

"True again. But is _my_ life worth..." He thought of Goro, the miserable life he'd had before they'd met. The far worse life he would have had to live had they never met... Was his salvation worth all of the horror...?

_Yes_, yes it was. Without a doubt, Torren-Wraeth valued that one single life over everything else, including his own. He knew it was selfish, that, if Goro still lived, he would be horrified that his friend would rather sacrifice the world than allow him to suffer. Torren-Wraeth felt a blush of shame upon his cheeks, and pushed the thoughts away. "I... I am only trying to _help _you. By simply living under my father, you would be relatively safe... You don't have to _worship_ him, just don't_ fight_ him..."

"A life of slavery is no life at all. You know this, better than anyone."

Torren-Wraeth handed the bag of Star Stones back to the men, and he indicated Eikichi, "But, I have been rude. This is Mishina Eikichi-Kun, avatar of Chxixsas-Kami-san, The Shadow Sage. And the Nukekubi is called Dodomeki."

The men bowed half-heartedly, and Eikichi returned the courtesy.

In distant R'Lyeh, Chxixsas, Adviser to Great Cthulhu, said nothing to his troubled master.

To be continued...

_Notes_:

The quote comes from a Magic: The Gathering card,_ Broodwarden_ from _The Rise of The Eldrazi_ set and belongs to Wizards of The Coast.

I have no real knowledge of Japanese color schemes, (or fashion at all, for that matter), if orange is inappropriate with red, I apologize... Red is Torren-Wraeth's favorite color, orange is mine... From what I've been able to find online Red, _Aka_, represents Good Luck, the Sun and Prosperity, and Orange,_ Daidaiiro_, represents Happiness and Spirituality.

_Dodomeki_ is not a Mythos Being and has no connection to The Outer Gods, outside of being nursed back to health by Chxixsas and becoming Torren-Wraeth's 'pet'. He was created by a human sorcerer using some other source of arcane power. He is thus not affected by The Elder Sign.

_Theophilus_- Wilbur Whateley's twin brother was never named in canon, he was just called '_The_ _Dunwich Horror_', 'Wilbur's Brother', 'Son of Yog-Sothoth' etc... He needs a name, so I gave him one. It means '_Friend of God_'.

_Nukekubi_, (Detachable Neck), are Japanese creatures that resemble humans, but their heads detach from their bodies at night to wreak havoc. They are often confused with _Rokurokubi_, (_Rokurubei_ for males.), who can stretch their necks to great lengths, like serpents.

_Bunraku_, traditional Japanese puppetering.

In Brian Lumley's _Titus Crow_ series, the sorceror Titus Crow and his allies wreak havoc on the Mythos, dropping nuclear bombs on R'lyeh and the Deep One city of Y'ha-nthlei, home of Cthulhu's daughter, Cthylla. He also committed genocide against the Cthonians, a race of underground, tentacled worms, hunting them down all over the world and very nearly wiping them out, and probably against other Mythos races as well... He was also in love with Kthanid's daughter, the humanoid Tiania.

_Kthanid_, _Cthylla, Shudde M'ell, Cthonians_, _Tiania, The Wilmarth Foundation_ and _Titus Crow_ were created by Brian Lumley

_Delta Green_ is copyright Pagan Publishing

_The Blackwood Detective Agency_ is copyright Fantasy Flight Games

_Vorvadoss_ was created by Henry Kuttner

_Nodens_ appears under various names in various mythologies, including _Nuada Silverhand _of the Celts and _Odin _of the Norse.

_Bast_ is, of course, an Egyptian goddess.


	17. Chapter 17

The Great Arising

Chapter 17

_God-Child._

_Man-Child._

_May your heart find that which has eluded you for so long._

_Joy._

Preface

_Kidoumaru_

Yoshida Kaein

(Translated from the original Japanese)

Had anyone chanced upon the remote beach that day, they would have seen a most bizarre sight; Three nude youths, one green, one gold, and one so white that his bare skin seemed to glow in the brilliant sunlight, basked in the summer sun. A pink, lumpy, floating object, covered in eyes, hovered nearby.

Torren-Wraeth sat brooding, staring out across the calm seas.

"You're supposed to be enjoying yourself, my friend, " Tek smiled at the green youth.

"I... I... Just don't know... Who I am. What I am."

"I could speak to you of 'Paths to Enlightenment' and 'Self Awareness' from any culture you'd like." The pale boy said, then stood and stretched, "But it wouldn't do any good. Most races go through this at some point in their lives, usually adolescence. With humans it is especially hard," He smiled, "Or so I'm told."

"It is more than the transition from childhood to adulthood that troubles me. You heard those men..."

"You've been blessed, you can go places we can't.." Eikichi paused, "Is _that_ it? The fact that you could probably go to Elysia and back, and your friends can't even walk through a door warded by The Elder Sign?"

"It's not _fair_."

"I'll skip the obvious response." Eikichi said, "Each of us has unique abilities. I have access to Chxixsas' vast knowledge, even if I don't understand it half the time, Tek here is one of The Million Favoured Ones... And you can go places we can't."

Tek stood, "We don't resent you for your abilities any more than you resent us for ours. Hell, I wish father would let me bring you to Carcosa, now _there_ is a beautiful place."

Torren-Wraeth stood, and stretched his wings wide, "Even if your father allowed it, mine wouldn't. He doesn't like my friendship with you." He laughed, "A son of Great Cthulhu in The Court of The King in Yellow... Now there's a thought."

"You know, I guess it doesn't really matter what I am, what matters is _how_ I live my life... And it's about time I stopped feeling sorry for myself, started really living again." He flew out a short distance, "One thing I'm _sure_ of, though, I can out-distance both of you!" Torren-Wraeth then dived into the sea, followed quickly by his friends.

The air was filled with shouts, laughter and light...

To be continued...

_Notes:_

It's about time Torren-Wraeth spent time having fun with his _living_ friends. He was about ready to dress all in black and read the _Twilight _series. On the up-side, his nails _are _naturally black...

_The Million Favoured Ones_ are Nyarlathotep's Chosen Ones, they receive support and power from him. Keziah Mason from '_Dreams in The Witch House_' is a good example.

Baby_ Naoltaba_ is staying with his grandfather in Carcosa. Tek is taking a well-earned break...

_Cthulhu, Nyarlathotep, The Elder Sign, The Million Favoured Ones_ and _Keziah Mason_ were created by H.P. Lovecraft.

_Elysia_ and _Kthanid_ were created by Brian Lumley

_Mishina Eikichi_ belongs to Atlus Company LTD.

_Torren-Wraeth, Chxixsas, Yoshida Kaein_ and _Tektaktequataquarl_ belong to me.

_Hastur _and _Carcosa_ were created by Robert W. Chambers


	18. Chapter 18

The Great Arising

Chapter 18

Torren-Wraeth's dark, slender body melted easily into the shadows of the forest. He felt silly, slightly scared and more than a little curious as to what would happen.

After all, this was the first time he had witnessed a ceremony for an _Elder God_. He himself had called upon their power to aid in the destruction of The Daemon Clown*, but that had been more pleading than formal ritual. Perhaps he would learn something useful . . .

A group of hooded figures crouched around a brightly burning fire, muttering prayers and incantations. The clearing had been arranged as a giant Elder Sign using small stones, and a cultist stood at each of the five points of the star, with the fire in the central eye. A woman, presumably the high priestess, stood before the fire. She and each of the standing cultists was holding a ram's horn. There was no sacrificial offering. Most deities Torren-Wraeth new of demanded blood sacrifice, human, animal or other.

That came as a relief to him, he was so sick of the sight of blood.

The woman's voice sounded clarion clear in the cool night air.

"Nodens, Lord of The Great Abyss, Hear our prayers! Mighty Nodens, listen to our pleas! Drive the evil from our midst! Shatter the spells of foul Cthulhu! Save us!"

Torren-Wraeth narrowed his yellow eyes. Most religion was tolerated as harmless by The Powers that ruled the earth, but the worship of The Elder Gods was forbidden. The Elder Gods, led by Nodens, had imprisoned The Great Old Ones and Outer Gods before. He had been sent to this place, which was inaccessible to others of his kind due to eldritch spells and wardings, by his father, Cthulhu. The Lord of R'Lyeh was uneasy, and felt that something was being plotted against him. Dodomeki hid in the branches nearby, seeing all with his many eyes. Could Chxixsas see into his memory, watch through his eyes even here? Who was to know?

The priestess drew the horn to her lips and blew, followed by the five cultists at the five points of the Elder Sign. The sound produced was not that of mortal instruments, and Torren-Wraeth felt a chill in his veins. The fire flared suddenly, forcing him to look away. When he turned back toward the fire he knew that his father's fears were well-founded.

A man, old, ancient, even, but powerfully built stood in the midst of the fire. He held in his hand a great spear, and his steel gray eyes locked with Torren-Wraeth's yellow. "I have come!" His voice was like thunder, and the forest shook as he spoke. He stepped from the fire and called out, "Is this what you expected, son of Cthulhu?"

The cultists were so caught up in their exultation that they either did not hear or did not understand what he was saying. Torren-Wraeth stood and straightened himself, trying to appear confident, which he was most certainly not.

"You were sent by your father to spy upon my followers? No matter." He stroked his grey beard thoughtfully, "I have been watching you for a long time, Torren-Wraeth. Come here."

The young hybrid walked into the firelight, and several cultists drew back in shock and horror. How could such a creature enter their warded domain?

"It is well, my children. He is a friend." Nodens said calmly. "His father is evil, but he is not."

"My father is _amoral_, there's a difference. He cannot comprehend human notions of morality."

"Even gods have laws. Cthulhu willingly violated our most sacred laws and joined in rebellion against us. He demands sentient sacrifices and drives his foes to madness. He is evil by the standards of gods _and_ mortals."

Torren-Wraeth nodded, "I suppose he is. But I am not my father."

"No, you are most certainly not. Were you evil I should strike you down or cast you out of this holy place." Nodens was not exaggerating, he was a huntsman, well known for tracking down and slaying his enemies, "There is much good in you, Torren-Wraeth. Good that can be cultivated." Nodens smiled, "Your uncle, Kthanid, has taken an interest in you as well."

He had friends. Friends who would not be accepted by Nodens or Kthanid. Tek, Eikichi . . .

Nodens turned to his worshipers and held his spear high, "Listen, my children! Soon will come _The Reckoning_!"

"But, Lord Nodens," Torren-Wraeth whispered tensely, "My father would _destroy_ this world sooner than give it into the hands of The Elder Gods!"

"You assume he has a choice, child. There are powers to whom Great Cthulhu is an insect."

Torren-Wraeth considered that as Nodens resumed his speech to the cult. Nyarlathotep and Azathoth were far more powerful than his father, but Nyarlathotep was evil incarnate, and Azathoth was a mindless husk. During The War between The Elder Gods and The Outer Gods, when it became clear that The Outer Gods would fall, Azathoth conceived a strategy that would rock the foundations of reality itself. He and many of his co-conspirators left their bodies behind to merge their intellects into one unbelievably powerful abomination. A gestalt of all their evil, hatred and cunning.

_Nyarlathotep_.

The final weapon. One last great insult to The Elder Gods.

While their bodies slither, shudder and crawl mindless and blind around the shell of Azathoth their thoughts live on in The Thousand Masks of Nyarlathotep.

A few Outer Gods refused to sacrifice their individuality and consciousness to The Daemon Sultan's scheme. Shub-Niggurath and Yog-Sothoth most notably. They were imprisoned, but retained both body and mind. The others would never be whole again, as Nyarlathotep would not surrender his power to anyone, even to his creators.

"What is _The Reckoning_?" Torren-Wraeth asked quietly as Nodens ceased speaking to his followers.

"There are things you are not to know as yet, for the knowledge would serve your father's interests as well."

"My father and the others have served their sentences, endured their punishments. Why do you add to them?"

"We imprisoned them with the hopes that they would see the error of their ways and repent. A few have, but most have not."

"And how do you define '_Evil_', Elder God?" Torren-Wraeth asked.

"Those who still seek to destroy us. And do not worry about your friends, they are in no danger from us."

"Not even you can defeat Nyarlathotep."

"Do not underestimate our power, child."

"Don't underestimate The Crawling Chaos." Torren-Wraeth warned, "It is a terrible foe." He frowned, "What is it? Another war, and humanity caught in the middle?"

"You think like a human. It's not just Earth, but the entire universe is at stake."

"That certainly makes me feel better."

"The war is not of our choosing. The Outer Gods and their servants still seek to overthrow us. We must be proactive. You are too young to know of the full extent of the ancient revolt against us. Of the terrible war that was fought. We do not seek such destruction, but Nyarlathotep and his ilk thrive upon suffering and death." He paused for a moment, "Do you love your father? I know that you do not worship him, even as you serve as his Proxy."

There was a long moment of silence, "He is my father. I hate the sacrifices and perverted cults, and sometimes I get angry at him . . . but he is my father. _Yes_, I love him."

"That is to your credit," Nodens rumbled, "We will speak again. Or perhaps Kthanid will contact you. For now I must go." Nodens turned and vanished into the flames.

Torren-Wraeth turned to the high priestess of Nodens, "I'd be careful, out here. The forest can devour the unwary and some trees have hungry maws."

"We do not fear The Dark Young."

"You should."

With that Torren-Wraeth flapped his wings and flew over the treetops, Dodomeki by his side.

To be continued . . .

* _The Daemon Clown_ is _Pennywise_


	19. Chapter 19

The Great Arising

Chapter 19

"_The Reckoning. _The doesn't sound very pleasant, does it?" Chxixsas observed. Great Cthulhu was less passive. "Why did you not press him for more?"

"How could I press an _Elder God_ for information?" Torren-Wraeth asked, "He spoke in riddles and vagueries to his own followers. They do not know anything, either."

Cthulhu hissed in frustration. A massive, clawed rubbed at his bloated belly. Nodens had come. Perhaps The Elder Gods still saw them as a threat? Perhaps they _were_ a threat. If Nodens and his self-righteous pantheon attacked, they would not simply sit back and let all they had accomplished be taken from them.

"Nodens likes you. Kthanid likes you. Perhaps . . . Perhaps you could find out more, in Elysia."

Torren-Wraeth's jaw-tendrils writhed anxiously, "They may like me, but they know not to _trust_ me. They know that I am bound to report everything to you, father."

Cthulhu uttered a curse so ancient none but Chxixsas understood it. The boy was right, of might disagree greatly on petty 'moral' affairs, but Torren-Wraeth still felt obligation, even love, toward him. _Honor your Father and your Mother._ It seemed ingrained in humanity even without the Biblical Commandment. Torren-Wraeth was half human, and he favored his mother's side in temperament. The beauties and pleasures of Elysia would not hold him, anyway, as his companions would not be allowed to join him. What use is Heaven, if you are alone?

Later,

"There is a prophecy," Eikichi said, "That states that one day Great Cthulhu may indeed be destroyed, only to be reborn in Cthylla's womb."

"I know. That is why his enemies have often attempted to kill my sister." Torren-Wraeth stood in the portal to his dwelling in R'Lyeh, letting the fierce, salt-spray winds whip through his hair and around his body. "But not all prophecy is true."

"You fear for him?"

"I fear for _all_ of you."

Eikichi paused to consider what would happen to him if Chxixsas were somehow imprisoned, or worse. He might be a free-willed avatar, but he was still a part of the greater being.

He had no doubt that Torren-Wraeth was considering the same question.

"Hey, don't worry about me. I'm tougher than I look."

"Perhaps we should move." Torren-Wraeth said abruptly.

"_Move?_"

"If R'Lyeh sinks again, I do not want to be trapped within it."

"We could simply _swim_ out. Of course, many of your possessions would be ruined. It's not likely to happen again, the stars are right, it will be millennia before they are wrong again and Great Cthulhu returns to his slumber."

"The stars can be bypassed, with enough power."

"Don't worry so much. All worrying does is make the matter worse." He smiled with his pale blue lips, "Why don't we do something to take your mind off of all this. Go somewhere and forget for a while?"

To be continued . . .

I keep forgetting how to spell 'Chxixsas'! My own creation, and I can't spell his name!


	20. Chapter 20

The Great Arising

Chapter 20

_This is not a grimoire. I am not a sorcerer, nor would I place powerful spells in unknown hands. I am a scholar, seeking to tell of the God-Children and their ways. Sorcery is by nature the calling upon of entities and powers that are, at best, dubious in their motivations. To Summon a creature is to force it from its home and business to come to you, and most beings resent such intrusion into their lives. To Bind, or enslave, a creature is far worse. These are powerful beings of which I speak, beings well capable of taking vengeance upon the one who previously forced them into service. I ask you not to seek them out unless you belong to one of their Gods and are known to them, and, even then, to use discretion and common sense. A sorcerer once made the observation '_Do not summon up what you cannot put down.'_ Never treat these beings lightly or think of them as your servants, because they are most certainly not. Though he is discussed at length in this book, there is no ritual given to Summon, or even Commune with, Torren-Wraeth. He despises being summoned, particularly for sacrificial rituals, and I respect him and honor his privacy._

_I do offer one 'spell' within this book. The knowledge of creating and using The Elder Sign to protect oneself from the more unpleasant inhabitants of our world. There are beings which may come to men of their own accord with evil or predatory intent. For these be wary, especially in forests and by the sea. A hungry creature can be more dangerous than an evil one._

_Kidoumaru - _From the Preface

Yoshida Kaien

As Torren-Wraeth hated to be Summoned, so he was loathe to Summon others. He would journey to them instead, even if it took him to far and strange places. He and Eikichi stood in what could rightly be called a Chamber of The Winds, as the howling air rushed by and around them with gale force. Massive, amorphous beings sprouting and absorbing manipulatory tendrils and riding upon the winds they themselves piped through gaping orifices swarmed around them.

Flying Polyps.

They were miles underground, in the very heart of a city built by these strange and powerful beings. For the most part, they were simply watching. The Polyps themselves, once they realized the intruders meant no harm and were apparently indestructible, were somewhat indifferent toward them, though a few viewed them with intense curiosity. They spoke at length about the lightless world of eternal gales and the bright surface lands where Great Cthulhu and his kin held sway. The Lord of R'Lyeh had little interest in the underground, that belonged to the ghouls, gugs and Polyps. The Polyps, in turn, had no interest in the surface, a mercy for humanity and other mortal races as the great beings could flay flesh from bones with their terrible winds.

This was a visit of curiosity more than formality. Torren-Wraeth simply wanted to 'see' the Polyps. 'Eco-Tourism', as the humans used to call it, or perhaps simple cultural observation.

_We rarely visit humans._ Eikichi spoke telepathically, as the howling winds drowned out all other sound.

_What?_

_The world is filled with human settlements, yet we rarely visit them,_ Eikichi pointed out,_ They are an interesting species._

_Most humans judge me by my father, his servants try to worship me and his enemies take me for an enemy as well._ Torren-Wraeth replied, _Have you ever . . . ? No, you're too young to have experienced what it is like for one of_ us _to try to help humans who are suffering under Great Cthulhu and his kin. Why? Is there some place in particular you would like to go?  
><em>

Eikichi was somewhat taken aback by the idea of 'what he wanted'. After all, he was an avatar created as a companion for Torren-Wraeth, wasn't he?

_I don't care how you came to be, Eikichi, _Torren-Wraeth evidently understood his thoughts, _You are my friend._

_No. No, I can't think of anyplace in particular. London, maybe, or Chicago. Some big, fairly intact city. So we can see how humans live outside of cults and New Yokohama.  
><em>

_It's a pity Tokyo is gone. . ._

To be continued . . .


	21. Chapter 21

The Great Arising

Chapter 21

_The Gods reproduce in many ways. Some mate with each other. Some mate with mortals. And some simply reproduce asexually by division and parthenogenesis. Some, the most wise and powerful ones, can even create a child from basic material components or by altering a favored mortal. The effects can be incredibly diverse. Cthulhu bears no resemblance to his 'parent', Nug, but his Pure-Blood offspring are almost identical to himself, except in size. I have, of course, never seen Great Cthulhu, but I have seen representations and heard descriptions from Torren-Wraeth. Torren-Wraeth has his mother's human form, save in color, wings and the small tendrils that grow from his jaw. Some Half-Bloods favor their Divine parent, others their mortal one._

_And then there are avatars . . ._

_What is to be said of Mishina Eikichi? I do not know. I have spoken with him at length, and I suspect that he does not truly understand either. His body was formed in the image of a young man who lived over six hundred years ago by Chxixsas, The Shadow Sage, as an avatar. But at what point does an avatar become its own being? Yet, he has become something far more . . ._

_Kidoumaru_

Yoshida Kaien

Chxixsas considered the situation from several perspectives. His plan had worked far too well. He had not foreseen, or understood, the emotional implications of creating a living, thinking creature for the sole purpose of pleasing another. To be fair, he intended the boy be more than a simple toy, but had not put much thought into his personal development.

That had been very foolish of him.

To do what he was considering was quite unusual, and the effects upon his young avatar would be unclear. But it might just protect him should some harm come to himself via The Elder Gods. Chxixsas was not a particularly emotional being, but he had a certain fondness for Eikichi, and for Torren-Wraeth. He understood that the situation was becoming difficult for both boys. Eikichi was living with the idea that he was created solely as a 'playmate' for Torren-Wraeth, giving him an agonizing lack of self-worth. Torren-Wraeth was laboring under the impression that he was so pathetic that his father had to create friends for him. He also felt that it was 'unfair' to Eikichi to be placed in that position, as he viewed him as a distinct individual deserving of respect and free will.

Through his avatar he had felt emotions that he had never experienced before. He wondered how beings with such a wide range of emotional states managed to remain mentally stable. They were making him uncomfortable, these tastes of mortal senses. He was not meant for such things, he was a Great Old One. And now he was making a choice based upon emotion rather than simple logic. Perhaps it would be best for all _three_ of them . . .

Eikichi lay sleeping in his bed, unaware of the moves his progenitor was considering. He slept well, he always slept well, it was how he had been made. Torren-Wraeth slept soundly a few yards away and Dodomeki hovered about the room, all-seeing and never sleeping.

_Eikichi_.

_Yes?_

_Would you like to be free? To exist utterly independent of me?_

It struck like a bolt from Heaven. Without warning or explanation. He understood at once.

To be an individual.

To be alone. To be one organism,_ Eikichi_ only, without Chxixsas. Was that even possible? He awoke quickly.

_Consider it a form of parthenogenesis. You will become my offspring, rather than my avatar. _

_Why? Why do you ask me this_?

_To protect you. If The Elder Gods move against me, it would logically affect you as well, as long as you are an extension of myself. Free, you would likely be spared. _

He looked down at his pale, human body. He was shaking, though whether it was excitement or fear he could not tell.

_Do not worry about that. You will retain most of your powers, You will merely lose access to me. And you will still be able to assume other forms, should you wish._

Torren-Wraeth stirred and sat up in bed, "Eikichi, are you all right?"

"I need time to consider . . ."

"Consider what?"

"Oh, I-I'm sorry. I was speaking to Chxixsas."

"Would you like to be alone?"

"_No_." He replied quickly.

Torren-Wraeth walked over to the pale boy, and sat beside him on the bed.

_Why would you do this? I was created only as a friend for Torren-Wraeth. _

_You are mistaken. You are and have become much more than that. I created you for two reasons, as a companion for Torren-Wraeth and as an individual that could experience and enjoy life in a way that I can never know. _

"Chxixsas has offered me independence. To become a free and separate entity."

It took a moment for Torren-Wraeth to understand what he was saying.

"He wants to cut you loose? As a child rather than an avatar?"

"Yes." He looked even paler than usual in the wan light of the moon, "I would be alone."

Torren-Wraeth put an arm around the other boy's slender shoulders, "No, you wouldn't. No more than any child born." He smiled, "And you have an advantage over a baby, you already have friends. _Family_, even." He paused, "This is a choice that has to be considered, you have to be _certain_. I won't pressure you, one way or another. If you want to talk about it, if you want my help, I'm right here."

To be continued . . .

When was _Kidoumaru_ written? I always thought of it as written after the events depicted in _The Great Arising_. So it either hasn't been written yet or is a work-in-progress.

There is a great deal of confusion about Cthulhu's parentage. I've seen him referred to as the child of Nug, Nagoob, (a deity created by Clark Ashton Smith), and Yog-Sothoth. I believe that I stated earlier in my Mythos that Cthulhu is the child of Nug, grandson of Shub-Niggurath and Yog-Sothoth, great-grandson of Azathoth. Torren-Wraeth is the child of an avatar of Cthulhu and Te'ree, a human woman of the Rapa Nui people. Chxixsas is Cthulhu's uncle.


	22. Chapter 22

The Great Arising

Chapter 22

Dodomeki and Naoltaba playfully chased each other across the sunny summer sky as the three others pondered the question set before them.

_Was Eikichi an avatar or a scion?_

Eikichi stood staring across the vast ocean, the dark spires and towers of R'Lyeh were visible here, thousands of miles away. His mind was even farther than that, he had been offered a choice, to become a free entity or to remain a part of Chxixsas. It was a question that would define his very existence. He could see in Torren-Wraeth's mind that he was, in a way, behaving as Goro had before him, living to make the boy happy while ignoring his own value as an individual. The exact opposite of what Torren-Wraeth wanted. He wanted him to be himself, to have a life of his own. But was that not what he was created for?

Torren-Wraeth did not want a friend who was merely a servile, sentient toy. Where Goro had such great difficulty overcoming the rigid social structure of feudalism and self-doubt, Eikichi had literally been _created_ for the young Half-Spawn. It was easy for Torren-Wraeth to forget that fact, but it was always in Eikichi's mind. At the beginning he had simply accepted his assignment, but now he had been given a choice.

_What did Eikichi want?_

He wondered briefly what the original,_ human_ Eikichi Mishina would have thought of his plight. First, he would have been intensely flattered that _his_ image had been used. Then, he would do everything in his power to break free. To be his own man, not a simple carbon copy. He had possessed the courage and strength of will to help defeat Nyarlathotep himself. He was a heroic, if flamboyant, young man. That was part of the reason Chxixsas had chosen him as a template for his special avatar.

Then again, _he_ was not the _real_ Eikichi Mishina.

_Monophobia_

The fear of being alone. To most that meant being isolated from other intelligent beings, but for an avatar to break free of his own 'true' self . . . It was a terrifying concept.

"I say go for it." Tek's voice intruded upon his thoughts. He turned to see the golden being standing behind him. He wondered for an instant what Great Cthulhu thought of having Hastur-Spawn so close to R'Lyeh. He wouldn't act, of course, neither Cthulhu nor Hastur desired a war with the threat of The Elder Gods hanging over their heads. And Tek and Naoltaba were hardly threatening, though Great Cthulhu still wondered if any of the mother's evil had passed into the child. "You don't have to worry, being a 'real' person isn't that bad."

The pale boy laughed softly, "_'Real_?'"

"Sorry, poor choice of words."

"It's okay. The exact nature of my existence is difficult to understand, even for me."

"You are not a toy. You are what you choose to be." Torren-Wraeth had been silent for some time, memories of Goro and his painful insecurity racing through his head, 'Not what Chxixsas wants. Not what I want. What _you_ want."

"I don't know what I want."

"Few of us do. You yourself told me that we experience emotional strain and confusion in life. There are no easy answers."

Something huge and black reared its head from the calm seas for a moment then vanished. Such things were common, and they paid it little heed. Eikichi looked down at the rings on his fingers, the elegantly carved golden _Ouroboros_, the serpent devouring its own tail. It represented various things in various cultures, infinity, an endless cycle of birth, destruction and rebirth, cyclicality. . .

An _Ending_ and a_ Begining_.

The time comes when the infant must leave the womb, no longer a fetus dependent solely upon its mother. The time comes when a child must stand on their own. Perhaps that time had come.

"I want to . . . I want to be something more. I want a life of my own." Eikichi felt a tugging deep within his soul, spiritual strings snapping, severing his connection to his master. He swooned, and Torren-Wraeth helped him to the sand as the universe swirled around him.

After several tense moments, he looked up at the sky with wide, pale blue eyes.

"I'm . . . _He's_ gone . . . Chxixsas is gone . . . What am I now?"

Torren-Wraeth helped the boy to unsteady feet, "You are Eikichi. You are my _friend_."

Eikichi sank cross-legged to the sand, massaging his forehead, "I may . . . Want to _change my name_ . . ." There was a hint of humor in his weak voice.

"Whatever you want, as long as it's _not_ Goro." Of course, if Eikichi were to choose that name, he couldn't stop him, he had no right. There were a lot of people in the world named _Goro_. But he doubted Eikichi would be so insensitive toward him. "You said something about visiting a big city . . . Once you feel strong enough?"

Blue lips curved into a smile, "Yeah . . ."

To be continued . . .

For die-hard fans and critics, I know that in _Persona_ Eikichi Mishina has _red_ eyes. In my Mythos, the _original_ human Eikichi also had red eyes, but the avatar/child has Chxixsas' pale blue eyes.


	23. Chapter 23

The Great Arising

Chapter 23

After The Rising surviving man had either grouped together into loose bands and tribes or stubbornly struggled to rebuild their cultures and cities. Cthulhu and other Great Old Ones would sometimes sabotage, or even secretly control, tiny nations that sprang up among men. They posed little threat, and most were left in peace, as long as they stayed small and loyal. The last thing they needed was a cabal or coven pooling their resources against them. Even without magic, some of the old technology remained, and, while nuclear energy would not R'Lyeh or it's Star-Spawned natives, the mortal worshipers would be in serious danger. Mankind could not be allowed to grow too strong, too numerous.

Most large cities that had survived the Worldquake and the maddening march of extra-dimensional horrors had become petty kingdoms, heavily fortified against encroachment by rival groups seeking to claim their land and resources for their own. Visitors were not trusted, especially when they were not human . . .

Torren-Wraeth, Eikichi and Dodomeki flew over fertile fields towards the city. People were reliant on agriculture now more than ever, with trade being made difficult by fear of what lurked in the woods and lonely places. This had once been a suburban housing area, but the buildings had been torn down centuries ago to make way for the fields and pasture ground. Even here humans were not free, aside from their self-appointed rulers, they had to make offerings to the local creatures for safety, cattle for The Dark Young and their mother made up the bulk of sacrifices, though other, lesser known creatures sometimes demanded a share. It ranged from simply agreeing to avoid the humans to outright extortion with threats of violent retribution.

While most humans resented The Great Old Ones, particularly Cthulhu, as the Rise of R'Lyeh had caused such death and suffering, most were bound by necessity to serve one or more of them. The problem for most was that there were so_ many_ Old Ones, some violently opposed to others. Cthulhu and Hastur, Tsathoggua and Yig . . . Those who followed or simply payed lip-service to The Great Old Ones tended to choose based on location and personal need. Yig was master in areas where snakes abounded, especially where they had already been revered. Cthulhu in areas involved with the sea. It is not to say that no one in Innsmouth favored Hastur, but they would have to do so in secret.

Of course, some stuck to the human religions, and new ones had sprung up since The Fall. This was allowed, as long as they remained peaceful, violent or rebellious cults were quickly put down.

As cities went, New Yokohama was an anomaly, one of those human settlements favored by the masters, in their case, Torren-Wraeth. A powerful protector allowed for peaceful, quiet lives, but such places were rare and usually centers of worship.

The skyscrapers still stood tall and proud, headstones to a society who believed that they could reach the heavens. Many were incomplete, having crumbled during the Worldquake or under the weight of time. Parts of the city were overgrown, barely distinguishable from the forest, though it was clear the humans were making a valiant attempt to reclaim these areas, perhaps out of fear that Shub-Niggurath might manifest through them. Bridges spanned between multistory buildings, linking people together who found travel on the streets unpleasant or impossible due to debris. Ghouls flourished in the old sewer systems and subways, emerging mainly at night to hunt.

The threat of plague was always present, people living so closely in primitive conditions could easily fall prey to contagions, but some humans had passed down ways of healing and medicine, others, magic. Magic was generally frowned upon among many tribes as a 'gift' from The Old Ones, but some healers used it nonetheless, and followers of The Elder Gods, already law-breakers, were well-trained in such things, though not from calling upon the likes of Cthulhu.

This was not a city that acknowledged Cthulhu's reign.

Torren-Wraeth had been hesitant to bring Eikichi here, but, last time he had come to this place the people had been peaceful, if bitter. Of course, leaders were deposed often and cities changed quickly under new rule. The trio flew low over the fortified stone wall that surrounded the city, allowing themselves to be seen and the call to go out, as a sort of courtesy. They didn't bother to ask permission, that would be a show of weakness and would shame Cthulhu in the human's eyes. They landed in a large plaza beside the weathered remains of a statue and fountain, its water source long forgotten. Eikichi straightened his uniform and hair. This would be his first adventure as a independent entity, and he wanted to get it right. Torren-Wraeth straightened his own clothing but ignored his long, loose hair. Faces peered from windows, then darted away when eyes fell upon them.

"Torren-Wraeth. What does your father want now?" A tall man entered the plaza wearing ragged leather with a broadsword strapped to his hip. His brown hair was short, and a scar ran down the left side of his face, drawing attention to his sealed eye. More men and women appeared from all directions, all armed and fierce looking.

"Nothing, Martins. My friend wanted to see the city." He nodded toward his companion, "This is Eikichi. The small one with us is called Dodomeki."

Martins made a sweeping motion with his right arm, "You've seen it."

"Things have changed since I was last here." Torren-Wraeth replied.

"Are you human?"

Eikichi looked uncertain for a moment, "No. No, I'm not human."

Martins shook his head, "I suppose that was a foolish question. Why do you want to '_see_' our city?"

"I've never been to a human city before."

Martins and several of his people laughed, Eikichi couldn't fathom why. "Then by all means, look . . ." He made a sweeping bow. Torren-Wraeth scowled at him, but he was unconcerned.

The pavement had long since degraded and was covered by crude cement, small stones and, in some places, bare earth. The buildings towered above them like malformed giants, but they were tiny compared to the spires of R'Lyeh. People could be seen in windows and on bridges, but it wasn't until they reached the market that the real action began.

In New Yokohama, their presence had elicited little surprise and no negative response, here everything came to a sudden and complete halt. For a moment, all eyes were on the newcomers, then everyone warily went back to their business, speaking in low whispers rather than the loud sounds of everyday market life.

_They obviously don't like us._ Eikichi observed.

_Not us personally, they don't even know you. But our kind in general. I don't suppose I can blame them. Life is hard for ordinary mortals, and they find it easiest to blame all of their problems on our kind. My father, especially, since he started it all in their eyes._ _To them, my father is the worst being, the worst disaster, in the history of this planet._

_Such irrational creatures. They know you, know that you wouldn't harm them . . ._

_This is nothing,_ Torren-Wraeth stated as they made their way through the thinning crowd, _I've been shot at with bullets and arrows, attacked by magic . . . Humans seem to need someone to hate, someone to take their frustrations out on. _He shrugged. Dodomeki bobbed a little above their heads, watching everyone and everything in sight.

Most buildings in the city had electricity and basic plumbing/water, mechanics and technicians were as prized as healers among most human groups, especially those who lived in a permanent settlement. Life was hard, but if you had access to electricity and clean water, it was less so. Some tribes lived on horseback, traveling the country with the seasons, living off the land. And some merely robbed and pillaged to survive, but such bands did survive long, as they were hated by all.

Eikichi wondered how long it would have taken the humans to rebuild the city had the Great Old Ones not hampered their efforts. By his estimation, not only would this city have been rebuilt, it would have reached a relatively high level of technology and culture. If there was anything left of man when R'Lyeh finally left Earth, they might yet build a civilization anew.

Before _The Great Arising_ had taken place, man had sent ships to the stars, and there were still thriving colonies on Mars and other worlds, despite Mars' own problem with The Great Old One Vulthoom. From what he understood they had achieved sub-light travel, but made no attempt to save 'Mother Earth' for fear of drawing Cthulhu's wrath upon themselves and a simple inability to help. Earth had been quarantined, only madmen, cultists and exceptionally brave scientists traveled to the planet, and humans on Earth itself lacked the knowledge and ability to leave. Even if they could, they would be considered suspect, as they might be a ghoul, hybrid or cultist in disguise. Human culture on other worlds must be completely different from that on Earth.

Primitive vehicles and draft animals occasionally passed on the streets as they walked on. Eventually they stopped before a large, squat building of dirty-white marble with worn steps and flanked by stone lions. It had once been a court, now it was something of a palace. It was from here that Martins commanded his people. Several armed guards stood to attention as Martins walked up the steps. The Elder Sign was engraven in many places upon the steps and the building's facade.

For some reason, Eikichi felt none of the instinctual displeasure at the magical wards.

_Could it be?_

Trembling, he extended a slender white hand and touched one of the engravings before Torren-Wraeth could act.

To be continued . . .


	24. Chapter 24

The Great Arising

Chapter 24

_The Elder Gods are even more enigmatic than The Outer Gods. Are they 'good'? We know of some of them through ancient mythology, Bast, Lady of Cats, Nodens, The Grim Hunter, Hypnos, King of Dreams. I will not try to ascribe motives such as 'good' and 'evil' to beings which are likely beyond understanding such concepts. I do know, however, that they have aided mortals in the past, sought to protect them. It was they who gave man The Elder Sign, to guard us from the creatures lurking in the shadows, waiting and hungry._

_Kidoumaru_

Yoshida Kaien

Nothing.

No burning. No pain. Not even a chill. Just cold stone. Both boy's eyes widened as Eikichi tested his hand upon another Elder Sign.

Torren-Wraeth gave a nervous, involuntary laugh. Perhaps it was a cruel joke. Was it possible? Were they even activated? Yes. The Elder Sign was magic of a rather insidious sort. Beings in the disfavor of The Elder Gods firmly believed that it would harm them. The knowledge that this was a psychological trick meant nothing, it could not be broken without one or more Elder Gods removing the mental blocks from a being's mind.

_Don't worry about your friends._ Nodens had told him that only a few days ago. Was this his doing?

Eikichi looked at his palm, porcelain white and unblemished. Martins had turned and was watching him curiously. Dodomeki hovered nearby, Chxixsas and Cthulhu were doubtless watching through his eyes. He wondered what they were thinking. He turned and looked at Torren-Wraeth, confused. The green-skinned youth smiled, "Welcome to the club."

They both began jumping and shouting in joy and excitement, uncaring of the astonished humans around them, who doubtless thought them mad. They hugged with a strength that would have crushed the life from a human.

"If this is some kind of foreplay I'd rather you find a room." Martins shook his head.

Elsewhere,

"It is hard to believe that he is one of Cthulhu's Spawn."

"Blood means little, Nodens. Remember, I am Cthulhu's _twin_, as much as I loathe to admit it." Kthanid replied. "Perhaps our approach regarding the Spawn of our enemies . . ."

"We made no mistake, Kthanid. When an anomaly such as Torren-Wraeth presents itself, we recognize it as such. We have agents who are Deep Ones, Byakhee, Nightgaunts and other races typically associated with our enemies. Those who are deserving of consideration are granted such."

Kthanid was the mirror image of Great Cthulhu, but gilded in gold. His rubbery flesh was healthier, unblemished by the curses and injuries his twin had brought upon himself by both his rebellion and his physical debauchery. His tentacles writhed in amusement, "See what joy he takes in the good fortune of others!"

"The longer he remains with his father the more likely it is that he will become corrupted," Nodens pointed out, "We should offer them a place here, in Elysia. Torren-Wraeth is still a noble being, and the other is totally innocent of the world, now."

"Earth itself is not evil, it is merely infested with the wickedness of The Outer Gods." Bast purred, "And we need agents we can trust there. Our worshipers have dwindled with the passing of ages."

"I would rather have him here." Kthanid said, "If he would come. He is bound by a deep, if misguided, love for his father. And he would certainly refuse to desert his mother."

"He is more human than Cthuli." Vorvadoss stated, "He is driven by mortal emotions."

"That is why he is special to me." Kthanid replied. "But he does have an important place on Earth. He drives off The Clown, and he battles other evils as well. He is needed there, for now."

"What of the other? The Hastur-Spawn?" Hypnos asked, "He is not truly against us."

"He still serves his father, and his father still opposes us. Torren-Wraeth has, in many ways, rejected his father's actions, if not his father himself."

Cthulhu's facial tentacles slid wetly across each other, and he rapped his claws together, "What just happened, Chxixsas?" Chxixsas felt a mixture of joy and sadness. Joy that his 'child' had been granted clemency by The Elder Gods, sadness that it had only been granted after they were parted. Was he really_ that_ wicked in their eyes? "It appears that my 'son' has been given some sort of amnesty." Cthulhu felt a chill within himself, "Do you think this means that they intend to move soon?" Chxixsas sighed, "Sooner or later, does it really matter? If they move against us, the outcome will be the same." Cthulhu's crimson eyes turned to meet his adviser's pale blue, "In all this time, you have never told me _why_ you joined us against The Elder Gods." The towering shadow paused for a moment, "For _knowledge_, Great Cthulhu. The Elder Gods denied us certain knowledge, the so-called 'Dark-Arts' for example. I desired to learn what was forbidden to me. In hindsight I suppose it was foolish, as I should have anticipated the outcome." Cthulhu was indignant at the idea that their eventual defeat had been obvious. "We lost only because Azathoth's strategies failed! Nyarlathotep is proof of the power we had, but that fool squandered it! Now, we can draw upon that power without . . ." "Nyarlathotep will not help us, unless it pleases him to foil the plans of The Elder Gods. He might simply attack everyone. The Crawling Chaos is too unpredictable. Too, for lack of a better term, _evil_." Cthulhu laughed, "You sound like a human." "But you know it to be true." Deep within his cold heart, Cthulhu knew that Chxixsas was right. Even by his standards Nyarlathotep was evil, and terrifying.

Torren-Wraeth sat cross-legged on the grass, playing a cheerful tune on a bone flute as the celebration continued. A feast had been laid out before the guests; Te'ree, Tek, Naoltaba, Grix and several others. Torren-Wraeth's old friend Theophilus Whateley loomed over the group, he had grown in the centuries since his encounter with Professor Henry Armitage and the death of his brother, Wilbur. He now stood over 150' feet high upon legs as thick as small cottages, his half-face near buried by writhing tentacles, less-recognizable limbs and flabby folds of elephantine flesh. Gaping maws, crinkly white hair and red eyes sprouted randomly across his massive, amorphous body. It had been said that he resembled his father, the god whom Cthulhu himself worshiped, Yog-Sothoth. As children the twins had been friends with Torren-Wraeth, but after Wilbur sacrificed his own mother, Lavinia, the two had a falling out. He had remained friends with Theophilus, however, though they hadn't seen each other in many years. He usually dwelt in his father's realm, but the idea of the brooding Torren-Wraeth holding a feast was too good to miss. He'd been so depressed since his human friend had died and needed to enjoy himself. He had to be careful, though, as he didn't want to step on anyone, and he had many feet. Fortunately, he had many eyes as well.

Of course, the guest of honor, Eikichi, was present as well. It was a celebration of his apparent favor with The Elder Gods. In truth he felt more than a bit guilty, as his guests had no such favor. They didn't seem to mind. As was natural for such beings, mass amounts of food were required to fill their bellies, or physiological equivalents, so they were surrounded by consumables, some live. Theophilus alone had already devoured three full-grown steers. The others thought it was somewhat amusing that Eikichi was a _vegetarian_, but it was his party.

Eikichi had felt that it would be in bad taste to hold the party in R'Lyeh, notwithstanding the fact that Tek and Naoltaba as Hastur-Spawn would not be well greeted in Cthulhu's home. He looked over at Grix, who normally played his mad pipes for the blind, mindless revelers in the Court of Azathoth. Here he was a guest, and seemed to enjoy listening to Torren-Wraeth's performance. Of course, Torren-Wraeth had invited _his mother_. Eikichi chuckled at the thought. From what he understood of humanity most boys his relative age would be horrified to have their mother come to a party with them.

The area had been chosen for its desolation and lack of human life. The mere sight of Theophilus alone could drive most men mad, after all. They lay deep within the neutral territory of Shub-Niggurath, far from either Cthulhu or Hastur. A massive Dark Young looked something like a deformed _Bonsai_ tree beside the gigantic Spawn of Yog-Sothoth. Glutted, it merely watched, ensuring that The Mother would be given due respect, more from feuding parents than celebrating children.

Dodomeki hovered beside him, as he had an eye in his 'mouth', he did not eat, sustaining himself upon the energies supplied by his powerful 'owners'. It smiled, and as he looked into the being's glittering green eyes, he could almost swear there was a hint of joy there.

To be continued . . .

If you've been reading this story you know by now that Torren-Wraeth is not the type to throw parties.

Torren-Wraeth was a friend of Lavinia Whateley as well, and was outraged when she was killed.

Yes, Eikichi is a Vegetarian, but not a Vegan.

Dodomeki was not created by The Great Old Ones, but by the human sorcerer, _Lo Pan_, though it was saved from death by Chxixsas. It is also fairly unintelligent, The Elder Gods see it as Torren-Wraeth's pet. Thus, The Elder Sign does not trouble it at all.

_Vorvadoss_ was created by Henry Kuttner.

_Vorvadoss_

The Flaming One

Lord of The Universal Spaces

Troubler of The Sands

Who Waiteth in The Outer Dark

Race - Elder God

Gender - Apparently Male

Alignment - Lawful Neutral

Class - Greater Deity of the city of Bel-Yarnak, on the planet Yarnak

Domains - Fire, Power, The Royal Family of Bel-Yarnak

Vorvadoss is one of the more actively benign of The Elder Gods. He has helped both humanity and the non-human natives of Yarnak, defending them against the forces of evil. He allows himself only one worshiper, whomever is the ruler of Bel-Yarnak. Others merely revere or respect him.


	25. Chapter 25

The Great Arising

Chapter 25

It was a massive, monolithic structure of black basalt, inter-spaced with amber colored windows and thick stone doors. Away from R'lyeh, Torren-Wraeth felt better having doors, not knowing what might fly by. It had been finely carved by flying polyps and polished to a sheen by shoggoths and, at least partially, designed by Torren-Wraeth himself. An inverted geodesic pyramid set atop four thick spiraling towers over a six stories high. The pyramid itself was the size of a four story building, leaving the base over ten stories in the sky.

And it was home.

"I see now you meant it when you were talking about moving." Eikichi held out his hands to frame the structure, "Not bad. Buckminster Fuller on acid. Do I get my own room?"

"Of course."

"What did you give the polyps in return for building this?"

"A few devices that they could use."

"Not weapons?"

Torren-Wraeth looked rather put upon, "No. I would never give anyone weapons. Besides, you've seen what they can do, they don't need weapons."

He pointed toward the structure, "There are openings in the towers that make a kind of music when the wind blows hard enough." Torren-Wraeth pointed out small ovals in the towers, "But they can be sealed if needed, and don't provide access to the main house. I also have plenty of Elder Signs and Wards to set out if I need to."

"Who are you trying to keep out?"

"Slenderman. Joker. Randall Flagg . . ."

The names made Eikichi's blood run cold, "In other words, _Nyarlathotep_."

"And The Clown."

"That's one being I don't want to meet." Eikichi paused, "In fact, I wouldn't like to meet any of them."

The interior of the pyramid was lit in amber from the large windows. The substance was retractable, so that they could open and close the windows at will. The pyramid was made of three floors, two huge storage rooms which took up the first and third floor, with the second floor divided into several large rooms, each with windows and outer doors. These were the living quarters. It was much more enclosed than Torren-Wraeth's home in R'lyeh, and most of the structure was of ordinary, if somewhat oddly designed, architecture. The mind-bending, non-euclidean geometry was largely absent. Here, a wall was a wall and _Newton's Law_ was enforced. There were a number of small holes, tunnels and shafts linking various areas of the structure designed for Dodomeki to play in and explore. Carved friezes and script covered much of the structure, depicting various creatures, events and individuals that were important in their lives. Ample room had been left for Eikichi to add his own design, as he was yet too young to have experienced much of anything.

"Pick a room and we start moving in. If you want to stay, that is."

"Home Sweet Home . . ."

Most of their belongings were teleported into their chosen rooms, as carrying them piece by piece would have been a long and boring task. The area was far from R'lyeh, in a forest claimed by Shub-Niggurath and Yig, a sort of neutral territory. Yig's only real 'enemy' was Tsathoggua, and his conflict with The Toad God involved their worshipers. Tsathoggua was so lazy that he had no interest in leaving his cavern, much less engaging in battle, so it was a bloodless animosity, for the most part. None of his followers lived anywhere near this forest, anyway. Shub-Niggurath had no enemies, by right of superior power, matriarchal authority and necessity. Most of The Great Old Ones on Earth were her children or grandchildren, and she commanded much respect among them.

All that was left was the parting.

Te'ree had always known that the day would come when Torren-Wraeth would strike out on his own. Yet, she was, in her heart, still human, and it pained her to see her child finally go out into the world.

"You'll be careful, won't you?"

"Of course, mother." Torren-Wraeth said softly, "Will you be alright, without me . . . ?"

"I will be alright. It's time you made a life for yourself. Besides," She smiled, "I know where you live." Torren-Wraeth knew that it was hard for her, as it was hard for himself to leave his mother in R'Lyeh. "If The Elder Gods . . ." "I made my choice long ago, my son. I have served our Lord faithfully, borne his child. I am glad that The Elder Gods favor you, as for me . . . I will follow our Lord wherever he leads." Torren-Wraeth wrapped his arms as best he could around his mother, "I love you." He said simply. "I know. I love you, too."

Eikichi felt a pang in his heart as he witnessed the exchange of familial affection. He had been born of cosmic whim, his only parent was Chxixsas. He had not been born or raised, he had been formed even as he was now, with all the basic skills he needed already planted in his mind.

A tall shadow draped in velvet robes leaned toward Eikichi, its mask-like, bone-white face inscrutable. Pale blue eyes were mirrored in paler faces, and a shadowy hand emerged from the robes, coming to rest on the boy's shoulder. It was soft, like velvet, but cold. For a moment Chxixsas examined his former avatar, then, "I made you far better than I had imagined. You are truly a masterpiece." It was a cold compliment from a being with little concept of true emotion, "I am proud of you. Proud that you were once a part of me. I know that you will go on to accomplish great things." "Thank you." Eikichi's eyes glimmered, Chxixsas was trying to be paternal, loving. On some level, he truly did love him. After all, he had given him a life of his own, free will. "Thank you, for everything."

"Thank you, Eikichi. You have opened up for me new perspectives, a whole new universe of perception of existence for me. I have spent my existence in search of knowledge. You have opened my mind to so much I was previously blind to. We have both grown through you."

Eikichi felt a strange warmth within himself, and he was certain that Chxixsas felt it as well. He was young and new to the world. There was so much to experience, so much to learn.

To be continued . . .

I know, I know, but he's a mama's boy.

Not my best chapter, I admit.


	26. Chapter 26

The Great Arising

Chapter 26

Cthulhu lifted his monstrous bulk from his great throne. He stood upon flabby legs and thick, taloned feet. His bloated body slimmed, as he directed mass to his bat-like wings, stretching them to unearthly size. The downdraft produced by his flapping wings produced hurricane force gales as he rose from R'lyeh. He hovered in the night sky, wings nearly scraping the atmosphere, and surveyed his domain. R'lyeh was massive, a great city for a great king. He was both king and High Priest, he served Yog-Sothoth as others served him. The great temple of Yog-Sothoth stood out even among the cyclopean spires of R'lyeh. Cthulhu enjoyed the worship of mortals, but even he had no real understanding of Yog-Sothoth's desires. There were secrets concealed from even the wisest of Great Old Ones, though arguably gods, they were neither omniscient nor omnipotent. One of the sons of Yog-Sothoth, conceived via a mortal woman, (though how a mortal could carry to term such a creature and survive was beyond him), had recently journeyed to Earth as a guest of his own half-spawn, Torren-Wraeth. To the servants of The Key and The Gate, even to his high priest, this was a form of Divine Visitation, but the child was but a few centuries old and could offer little insight into his sire's wishes. He could, of course, attempt to summon his god himself, but the presence of Yog-Sothoth could damage even nigh-indestructible R'lyeh. The youth had returned to his sire with his High Priest's questions and concerns, but he had yet to receive an answer.

To make matters worse, the Nodenists and other servants of The Elder Gods were becoming more brazen, emboldened by Noden's cryptic message. They did not understand that what was a brief moment for an Elder God could be eons in human terms. This '_Reckoning_' would likely take place long after they had become dust. They were puny things, but they could cause trouble by attacking his temples and worshipers, as they had in Innsmouth. Like The Elder Gods themselves, Cthulhu was unforgiving, and he remembered those who had done him harm, taking a terrible vengeance upon his enemies.

And it was one of those enemies that had drawn him from his comfortable lair. Or, to be more accurate, one of his _son's_ enemies.

He knew who The Clown was, and his son's hatred of it was beginning to affect him as well. The latest battle, though initiated by Torren-Wraeth, had taken a tremendous emotional toll on the boy. Cthulhu had nothing against IT personally, but his son's frequent attacks on the thing were endangering both his health and sanity. The boy was obsessed with destroying an obsolete obscenity. It was a waste of time and blood, and it was time for it to end.

He began to fly toward the distant horizon. R'lyeh stretched for thousands of miles in either direction, and he lazily flapped his way toward North America.

He pondered the puny human settlements beneath him. Their greatest cities at the very height of human civilization had been mere anthills compared to the most humble dwellings of R'lyeh. The place where he was going had once been a tiny speck of wood and stone called Derry. It had been abandoned for centuries, save for the demon that stubbornly clung to his worthless claim.

Derry, Maine,

"It is time for you to abandon this useless avatar. This place has no inhabitants. You skulk about in a ruined sewer hunting prey that will never come."

The Clown had been surprised to have been summoned, no one summoned Pennywise. Why would they? Then he had realized _who_ had summoned him, and it all made sense. Pennywise stood defiant before The Lord of R'lyeh, even though he could see no father than his bloated belly from his vantage point, "Why should I abandon this avatar? Simply because it offends your whelp? As for prey, the children will return, eventually." Pennywise laughed, revealing sharp yellow teeth, "Do you think _I_ fear _you_? In The Deadlights, I am far more powerful than you, 'Great' Cthulhu. You would not dare travel to my realm, much less to confront me as I truly am."

"Because if you do not, I shall summon _The Devourer of Souls_. I am High Priest of Yog-Sothoth, and even you cannot stand against that kind of power." There was genuine anger in Cthulhu's voice, "I know who you _truly_ are, and you cannot hide from The All-in-One and The One-in-All. Do you wish to spend eternity experiencing all of the ways in which you can die simply to keep this worthless form? To what end? You come, my son kills you. Again and again."

"He cheated! He called upon _Hastur_!"

Great Cthulhu growled at the mention of his son's use of one of Hastur's spells. "Chxixsas says that you are a masochist. That you purposely allow yourself to be defeated and destroyed. That you subconsciously defeat yourself."

"LIES!"

"I don't care. You _will not_ return, Clown."

"Don't threaten me, squid-head!"

"I do not threaten. I simply _do_."

"Does your little boy know his _daddy_ accepts _child_ sacrifices?" The demon smirked.

Great Cthulhu concluded the argument by smashing the avatar to paste beneath a flabby paw.

In The Deadlights, IT considered the situation. Pennywise was a small sacrifice to make to avoid the horrors of The Devourer of Souls. IT had other forms, other faces. After all these centuries, why had Cthulhu taken an interest in IT _now_? Cthulhu was almost as bad as he was. He knew the answer instantly. He had insulted the boy's dead friend. He had hurt him in a way that mere combat never could. He had done too much damage. There were points when a child grows so enraged that their parent is forced to step in and restrain him. IT had reached that point and far beyond.

Pennywise would not return.

To be continued . . .

See, Cthulhu loves his children.

_The Devourer of Souls_ is an avatar of Yog-Sothoth who . . . Devours souls. Then it lets them spend eternity experiencing every possible method of death.

_The-All-in-One_ and _The-One-In-All_ are titles for Yog-Sothoth.

Why do I write so much about a character I despise? Pennywise is the perfect villain, he has no redeeming qualities whatsoever and killing IT makes the universe a better place. This is hopefully the last we'll see of IT, though _He Who Walks Behind The Rows_ may make an appearance at some point.

My apologies to Stephen King, though, in my defense, I did say that IT would have defeated Cthulhu in IT's home realm. He only killed a weak avatar.

_Pennywise_ and _It_ belong to Stephen King and are used without permission or common sense.


	27. Chapter 27

The Great Arising

Chapter 27

_The life of the God-Child is not easy. Often their lives are cut cruelly short by the frightened and superstitious before they reach a stage where they can protect themselves. Unless the God-Child is born into a society that holds its parent in high esteem, they are, at the very least, shunned. Many who live to adulthood hold emotional scars that manifest themselves in bitterness and hatred toward the race they believe the cause of their woes. Thus, we create our own monsters through human intolerance and cruelty. One wonders what Theophilus Whateley thinks of humanity, his brother Wilbur slain by vicious dogs and he himself hunted down and dispelled by frightened humans. Both Whateley twins had merely wanted to join their father in his realm, but humanity was against them. Torren-Wraeth and his mother survived only because Cthulhu actively protected them._

_The humanity within the God-Child allows them access to powerful human emotions. They can love and hate, and terrible is the God-Child who has succumbed to wrath and hate._

_Kidoumaru_

Yoshida Kaien

Torren-Wraeth recognized the odd, droning sound at once, though he could hardly believe it. Both boys rushed to the window and saw something out of a time long past.

An _Airplane _.

It was a small plane with an open air cockpit from which they could see a very surprised pilot. She had, evidently, been unaware that this area was inhabited. The fact that the massive building was clearly non-human in architecture doubtless doubled the shock.

Airplanes and other advanced technology were rarely seen outside of 'Blessed' communities, and were rare even there. This one must have been independently conceived and constructed, perhaps by the pilot. Great Cthulhu and most of his kin did not want humanity to have access to potentially dangerous technology. Airplanes could carry guns and bombs. Besides the obvious threat to his mortal worshipers, human communities might war with each other, creating chaos and destruction. Human life meant little to most Great Old Ones, but destruction of useful materials was simply wasteful.

"What do you think it's made of?" Eikichi asked. He had never seen an airplane before.

"I don't think ordinary people have access to aluminum, it may be wood."

"Should we go out?"

"No. She might think we were attacking and crash."

Eikichi wanted a closer look at the plane, but he didn't want to accidentally cause someone's death. The plane flew to the right of the house, over the forest. The pilot didn't have the protection or power to allow her to fly much higher. The boys and Dodomeki rushed to the roof, the flat surface of the inverted pyramid, to watch as she flew away.

Karen looked back at the bizarre structure to see two tiny figures standing on top of that bizarre structure, with some sort of orb floating around them. They were watching her, but hadn't made a move. They didn't have to, a simple spell could bring her crashing to the ground.

_Don't worry, we won't harm you._ The voice was masculine, but gentle, with slight remnants of the high-pitch of childhood. _An airplane. Remarkable. Did you design it yourself? _

"Get out of my mind!"

_Yes. Of course_. The voice sounded slightly embarrassed, _I only wanted you to know that we had no ill intent._

The voice sounded gentle, but she knew better than to judge by appearances. She also hated the idea of someone invading her mind, her thoughts.

The voice was gone, now. Perhaps he had been sincere. But the fact that something non-human knew of this flight was a bad omen, they had hoped to hide it from Cthulhu and his fiends. They should have known better.

Karen hoped he was sincere, she would have to pass that structure on the way back to base.

Torren-Wraeth shrugged, "She doesn't want to talk. I can't say I blame her. I wonder where she came from. I'm not aware of any free human settlements in the area."

Eikichi's pale blue eyes narrowed, he was looking in the other direction, "She has a problem." He pointed toward a rapidly approaching streak of green.

"It's _Ked_." Torren-Wraeth sighed. "Great, that's all we need."

Ked looked somewhat similar to Torren-Wraeth, though he was of a bigger bone structure and much taller. His hair had been shaved off, discarded as part of the side of his heritage he despised. Instead of continuing his pursuit, he turned toward the house and his half-brother. He landed atop the roof and frowned, "Why didn't you stop her?"

"Why should I?"

"Humans should not have such technology!"

"Why not?"

Torren-Wraeth considered his half-brother. His mother had been of European descent, and he was tall, square-jawed and broad shouldered. He was physically stronger than Torren-Wraeth, and he was not fond of humanity.

"You know our father does not want humans to have these things."

"Airplanes can be useful." He smiled, "Besides, it's been a long time since I've seen one. It's kind of nice to see such creativity."

"Bah! You always did embrace your _human_ side. It's disgusting! You speak their languages better than our own!"

Eikichi stood on one side with Dodomeki, watching. He had never met Ked, and was not particularly impressed by his belligerence.

Torren-Wraeth could not blame Ked for his feelings concerning humanity, his childhood had been brutal. Almost all hybrids suffered until they were strong enough to defend themselves. He also had suffered as a child. But that did not mean that he agreed with him.

"This is neutral territory, Ked." He said calmly, "Shub-Niggurath and Yig control these lands, not our father. You have no right to act here without their permission."

"You built a house here!"

"I had permission."

Ked snarled, revealing shark-like teeth. He knew that Torren-Wraeth was right, and both dominant deities were favorably disposed toward humans. He had no right to hunt on their land.

He jabbed his thick finger in Torren-Wraeth's chest. "When they come back with bombs, you'll be sorry!" He calmed himself, "_I_ have nothing to fear, brother, but _you_ are weak. They could hurt you." He smiled, "That would be a pity, now wouldn't it? Sometimes I wonder about where your loyalties lie, brother, especially given your 'favored' status with our father's enemies." He smirked, "Perhaps you're actually Kthanid-Spawn."

"There would be no shame in that."

He sneered in disgust, "How devoted to our father is your _mother_?"

Torren-Wraeth's expression did not change, but his eyes blazed ominously "You are currently standing on the roof of our home. If you wish to continue to possess the capability to stand anywhere, I suggest you leave. _Now_." It was mainly bluff, Ked was larger, stronger and meaner than Torren-Wraeth, but he would not go away from a fight between them unscathed. Torren-Wraeth was a gentle being, but he could be a terrible opponent when enraged.

"Try to live like a weak human, if you want. I will take the path of _strength_."

"Strength is wasted on fools. I told you to leave."

Ked flapped his wings and headed away, sending back a disdainful look.

Karen cursed. She was miles from base and the plane was losing power. There was only one flat surface within range of _Freedom I_ suitable for landing an airplane, and it belonged to_ them_. She could land atop the structure, or she could crash into the dark, monster-ridden forest. She changed course for the strange building.

To be continued . . .

_Ked_

Race- Cthulhi/Human Hybrid

Gender - Male

Height - 9'7"

Weight - ?

Eyes - Blue-green

Alignment - Lawful Evil

Class - Fighter

Ked was born to a cultist in Central Europe. He lived (and suffered) through the Witch-Hunts of the Middle Ages and never forgave humanity for their cruelty towards him. He has totally rejected his human heritage, and does everything he can to distance himself from it. He is fanatically loyal to his father.


	28. Chapter 28

The Great Arising

Chapter 28

A large _Ouroboros_, ornately carved in a Celtic style and made of pure obsidian, stood in the center of Eikichi's room. It was the first of his own, personal possessions, outside of clothing and rings. For some reason _The Ouroboros_ appealed to him, it always had. Of course, _always_ in his case was a little over a year. He didn't know why, it just did. It was ironic, as he himself existed outside of the normal cycle of birth and death, he had been created as he was, and was effectively immortal.

Perhaps it was not so ironic after all. _The Ouroboros_ could also represent _Eternity_.

He looked toward the West side of his room and through the layers of thick stone, the pilot was returning. He had expected her to avoid the vicinity of the house, but she seemed to be headed straight for them.

Was she actually attempting to _land_?

Karen circled the inverted pyramid thing. The roof, the bottom of the pyramid, was flat and long enough for _Freedom I_ to make a landing. Or, at least, it appeared to be. The Great Old Ones were infamous for their deceptive architecture, a level plane might act as a bottomless pit or a jagged outcropping. And even if she landed safely, then what? Would she just ask the creatures inside for spare parts? She saw them emerge onto the roof and stare in surprise as she pulled in for the landing.

Two boys. One was a half-breed. The other _looked_ human, but you couldn't tell. The green half-breed began motioning, directing her toward a certain area. The plane suddenly stopped dead, but she didn't fall. _Freedom I_ simply floated over to the pyramid and gently touched down in the indicated area.

A third creature had joined the boys, a round ball of flesh and eyes. They moved toward her and she checked her pistol, as if that would help. She felt _The Elder Sign_ around her neck.

"Hello!" The green boy shouted, "Don't worry, we're friends!" She clenched her pistol tightly, took in a deep breath, and climbed out of the plane. "I'm Torren-Wraeth." Torren-Wraeth was fairly handsome, for a half-breed. He was also nearly naked, wearing only a red loincloth. The boy continued, "This is Eikichi Mishina," He indicated the human-seeming boy. He was strikingly handsome, in a way. Eikichi had bone-white skin with carefully combed blue-white hair and appeared to be wearing heavy make-up. His clothing was bizarrely patterned and colored. Together with Torren-Wraeth they made an incredible contrast, a feral child and a eccentric clotheshorse. "And Dodomeki." The eye-creature winked at her with several green eyes.

"_Karen_." She said bluntly, "Why'd you help me?"

"Because you would have crashed. We couldn't very well just let you die." Torren-Wraeth replied, "You won't need the gun or _The Elder Sign_, neither can harm us. You can hold onto them, though, if they make you feel better." He was reading her mind again, and that made her very uncomfortable. If anyone found out about the project . . .

"What now?"

"I have absolutely no idea." Torren-Wraeth admitted.

"We can help you fix your plane." Eikichi spoke up. His voice was soft and had a nice musical quality to it, "I mean, we don't have parts or fuel here, but we can get them."

"Is it that easy for you? You just say what you want and you have it?" Their group had scrounged for years for parts to create just a single craft, and these creatures only had to ask? There were benefits to being inhuman . . .

"No, not always."

"Are you human, Eikichi?"

"No."

_I should have known better_, She thought, "Is that what you _really_ look like?"

"Yeah. Handsome Devil, right?" He smiled with pale blue lips. Karen didn't reply. Dodomeki smiled, revealing yet another eye, in its _mouth_, and she felt a bit queasy. "Don't worry, he's harmless. He couldn't hurt anything, even if he wanted to, which he never does . . ." It felt so bizarre talking with these creatures, they seemed so alien, yet, somehow human.

"I'm afraid we don't have much to offer you in the way of refreshments." Torren-Wraeth said, "We only just moved in. We have plenty of water and a little meat, but mostly fruits and vegetables."

She was tempted to ask what kind of 'meat' he was referring to, but decided she didn't want to know, "I just need a few tools to work on my plane, and a little water. I have to get back home."

"We only have a few carving tools, but I can call some of our friends to bring things like that . . ." Torren-Wraeth walked over to the _Freedom I_ and stood there for a moment, admiring it, "Very nice work."

The sun was rapidly setting. The others at Base were probably worried that she was dead. It was a prototype, after all. Man hadn't flown, _hadn't been allowed,_ to fly, except for the collaborators, for centuries. She realized that she would probably be spending the night here, while the boys contacted some horrible creatures from God-only-knows for wrenches and screwdrivers. It was, in a way, comical.

Was _this_ the enemy?

If they were reading her mind, they weren't digging very deep. They were both curious as to how a human could develop an airplane under Cthulhu's nose, and, if they knew its purpose, they said nothing of it. It could be a game, trying to gather more information. But, if they could read her mind, why bother with games? Some of _them_ enjoyed playing with their prey. They did not appear to be sadists, but one never knew.

Whatever the case, she had no choice but to follow them into the pyramid.

To be continued . . .


	29. Chapter 29

The Great Arising

Chapter 29

Karen was tall, taller than Eikichi, with light brown hair and dark brown eyes. She was somewhat bony, and wore a crude uniform that had apparently been tailored for someone else and thick, leather boots. A loaded pistol was strapped to her hip, though what protection mere bullets could provide against even weaker beasts was debatable.

A hard woman for a hard world.

She was part of _The Resistance_, obviously. As a half-human, Torren-Wraeth understood to some extent the human desire for freedom and self-determination, and the willingness to fight for it. But when a cause was hopeless, it was merely an elaborate form of suicide. All the people had to do was live peacefully under The Great Old Ones, and they'd be left alone, for the most part. In their defense, Cthulhu and several of the others made life extremely hard for human non-worshipers, but he allowed them to live. Wasn't life better than death?

It didn't make sense.

The interior of the structure, beyond the narrow hall leading from the roof, was spacious and relatively cool. It was lit in an odd amber light, though she caught glimpses of shimmering emerald rays from some of the halls and rooms. Almost all of the furnishings were made of stone, though there were plenty of cloths and pillows scattered about. The stones were covered with imagery of terrible creatures and indescribable places. Torren-Wraeth appeared in many of the murals, but Eikichi was strangely absent, as if he had only recently come into the picture. She recognized all to well one figure prominently displayed throughout the long corridors and stairways.

"_Cthulhu_."

"Yes, he's my father."

Her jaw dropped, "You are the _son_ of _Cthulhu_?"

"One of millions." Torren-Wraeth replied vaguely, "One of millions."

Cthulhu had _millions_ of children? She felt a bit sick at the thought.

"One of them, Ked, was following you. He wanted to kill you, but Torren-Wraeth drove him off." Eikichi said, "I hate to tell you this, but he's probably already run back to R'lyeh to tell his daddy that a human built a plane."

"Ked hates humans. He suffered a lot as a child because of human beings, and he never forgot, or forgave them." Torren-Wraeth replied.

It struck Karen like a ton of bricks. Not only did Cthulhu know about _Freedom I_, one of his children was trying to kill her. And she had sought refuge with another of his children.

She would definitely not be sleeping tonight.

"A-are you a son of Cthulhu, too, Eikichi?" She asked.

"No. I'm the son of Chxixsas, The Shadow Sage, Cthulhu's uncle." Karen had heard tales of a living shadow that dwelled in Cthulhu's Court, but she had never heard it's name. The idea of Cthulhu having an uncle, and, by obvious extension, _parents_, was incredibly odd to her. Humans tended to view The Great Old was as abstract entities, madness made manifest. The idea of their being born, or hatched or however the Hell they reproduced, was simply bizarre. What were they like as children? Or were they born adults? And how could a _thing_ like Cthulhu have relations with a _human_? She realized that she had no desire to find out.

Torren-Wraeth politely excused himself and vanished into an amber-lit doorway.

Karen walked over to a massive, hexagonal window that gave a spectacular view of the dark forest. The moon was rising, the sun was gone. She'd get no work done tonight. She turned to find that Eikichi had joined her, "We could open a _Gate_ to wherever you were going. Then we could just push the plane through and -"

"My friends wouldn't appreciate that very much. This was supposed to be a _secret_ project." She sighed, turned toward the boy, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude."

"You just don't know if we can be trusted." Eikichi smiled, revealing perfect white teeth, "I don't blame you. Nothing in this world is what it seems." His eyes were a beautiful shade of pale blue, "Take me, for instance. How old would you say I am?"

"I don't know, 16?"

"One year, seven months, five days." He laughed lightly, "Torren-Wraeth? He's over a thousand years old. He was born in the 13th century, by the old human calender."

She didn't know which was more shocking, the young man before her was chronologically an infant, while his friend was older than the most ancient cities in the country. She just shook her head numbly.

"Of course, to the Cthulhi, a thousand years is nothing. He's still a child."

She tried to shake the image of the attractive, scantily clad youth from her mind at _that_ revelation.

When Torren-Wraeth entered the room, he looked like a different person entirely. He was wearing a long, elegant red and orange kimono, and his black hair was combed and pulled back into a long braid. He had gone from a feral child to a well-dressed nobleman. "My apologies for my earlier appearance, we had not expected visitors."

"Out here, I suppose you wouldn't. Not _human_ visitors, anyways."

"Indeed. We were quite surprised to find any humans here. There is a small settlement of Serpent People a few miles distant, this is Yig's territory, after all, but we had believed ourselves a safe distance from the nearest humans."

Karen laughed. She couldn't help it. The children of The Great Old Ones wanted to keep a safe distance from mere humans?

"I know what you're thinking. It's not that we fear humans, we like them. But this place was chosen for its solitude, a place where we could rest without disturbance from either fanatical worshipers or angry freedom fighters."

_Angry freedom fighters_ . . . So they knew. She supposed it was obvious, why else would she be carrying a gun and an _Elder Sign_?

"Besides, some of our friends have appearances that cause . . . _Negative_ reactions to the human body and mind."Eikichi added, "Some things most humans simply can't see without damage to their sanity."

"If you wanted to avoid attention, why did create a giant inverted pyramid on stilts to live in?"

"Between The Dark Young, The Blessed of Shub-Niggurath, the Goat Spawn and the Serpent Men . . . Er, Serpent_ People_, only lunatics and cultists are willing to brave the woods. The nearest human settlement is many miles away, so even they are rare."

The group reclined at a low table of light green stone. A tray of fruits, vegetables and nuts was laid out before them. Many of them she had never seen before, such as dates and almonds. Apparently Eikichi was a vegetarian, and Dodomeki did not eat at all. Yet they had more food at one meal than most humans had in two or three days.

Karen took a deep drink of cool water from a stone cup, "So, it's just the two of you here?"

"_Three_." Eikichi nodded toward Dodomeki. "He was created by a human sorcerer centuries ago, long before The Rise of R'lyeh, as a familiar. He's even older than Torren-Wraeth, around 3,600 years or so. He has some intelligence, not at a human level, but he's getting smarter every day, with a little help."

A _human_ sorcerer. She didn't particularly like sorcerers, as they tended to call upon the likes of Cthulhu for their power, and those with magical abilities often used them to oppress other humans. Sometimes people could be as bad as the monsters.

She looked at the creature called 'Dodomeki'. It could not punch, kick or bite an opponent, so unless it's eyes held some special offensive abilities it was probably completely harmless. Unnerving, but harmless.

She hoped that she could say the same of her hosts.

To be continued . . .


	30. Chapter 30

The Great Arising

Chapter 30

_Rodrigo (holding the large cross): "I shall enter these 'Goat's Woods' and drive out the demons you worship. I shall free this land for God!"_

_Witch: "More like, they shall exorcise _you_, priest."_

_Massa di Requiem per Shuggay_

Benevento Chieti Bordighera

Great Cthulhu sat in meditation, his mind plumbing the depths of Chaos itself in search of answers. He had to be cautious, and patient. Even he could not endure the full madness that was Azathoth. Most humans believed that The Great Old Ones were pinnacle gods, and, in truth, the very sight of most would drive men mad. The Great Old Ones themselves knew better. The sight of Nyarlathotep in all its glory would crush the greatest of them like ants. They could not fully fathom their ways, comprehend their will. Great Cthulhu was High Priest and grandson of Yog-Sothoth, yet he did not in truth_ know_ Yog-Sothoth. The One-In-All existed in all time, all space, save where it had been barred by The Elder Gods. The amount of power required to restrain such a being showed all to well the devastating capabilities of the enemy.

What could they do against such power?

The answers eluded him.

"Your father is not to be disturbed."

Ked looked up into the inscrutable white face of Chxixsas, "But this is important."

"That a group of rebellious humans have built airplanes? He already knows. His concerns are on a more _cosmic_ level."

Ked knew enough not to meddle in his father's affairs. Though he was half-Cthulhi, he could be affected by The Greater Powers. Because of his cursed human blood, there were things forever closed to him. The weakest of his Pure-Blood kin was infinitely stronger than he was, and it made his blue blood boil.

"Do not trouble yourself, Ked." Chxixsas said gently, "The humans can do nothing of consequence with such primitive technology. It is not worth consideration."

"I think Torren-Wraeth is allied with them."

"If so, that is his choice."

"You don't care!?"

"As I said, that is his decision to make." Chxixsas placed a clawed hand on Ked's shoulder, "We must each make our own paths. Torren-Wraeth has made his choice. You have made yours. Leave it at that."

At the door to the bunker, Jimmy Bone-crusher strained his ears, but the comforting sound of rotors spinning did not reach them. Night had fallen hours ago. It was virtually certain that Karen was dead, or worse. "She's alive." Kevin said abruptly, "I know she's alive." No one said anything. What was there to say to a man who had just lost his twin sister? Marcus stood up and walked toward the thick doors of the compound, "It's night outside. All the devils are out."

"She's strong! If anyone can make it, she can!" Kevin moved to open the doors.

Marcus stepped in front of him, "No! The Dark Young are everywhere, you wouldn't get half a mile-!"

The entire group suddenly fell silent as a vision came upon them. They saw a massive structure in the forest, _Freedom I_ sitting serenely on its flat roof. Karen was inside, alive, unharmed. They knew everything that had happened that day.

It was a message.

But was it _true_?

"I told them you're alive, but I don't know if they believe me." Torren-Wraeth said softly.

"_I_ wouldn't." Karen replied.

"I believe you." He arched an eyebrow, "You have ghouls in your group?"

"Why not, Ghouls can think for themselves, can't they?"

"It is simply that I was under the impression that you disliked non-humans."

"I dislike anyone who serves Cthulhu and his kind. _Especially_ the ones who are _human_."

"Why can't we just live peacefully? You don't have to_ like_ Cthulhu. My father doesn't sit around eating babies and thinking up ways to make people suffer -"

She laughed, "Your father makes sure we have to live like animals. Living in ruins and hiding underground at night. What kind of a life is that?"

"Better than the alternative."

"The difference between us." Karen said flatly. "Some things are worth dying for. For children to be born free, to never know what it's like to have to hide from monsters and demons, or to scrounge for food and medicine."

"I gave up hope for such a world centuries ago." Torren-Wraeth said sadly.

"We don't have the luxury of giving up. We have to live with it, every day." Karen's voice was bitter. How could anyone just give up?

"The world has always been a place of suffering, cruelty and oppression." His voice grew grave, strained, "I saw my mother's people wiped out by other humans. I doubt anyone even remembers the _Rapa Nui_ . . . I've witnessed three World Wars and countless genocides. I've seen humans commit acts of depravity and evil that you cannot possibly fathom. I had a friend, a human. We were together for almost 300 years. He . . . He chose to _die_ rather than watch humanity suffer so much. He died centuries before R'lyeh rose, before _The Awakening_. I wonder . . . I wonder what he would think of this world."

Karen could feel a deep chord of pain in the boy's voice. To him, it seemed, the world had been a place of suffering and death for a long time. The only difference was in _who_ was doing the killing.

Torren-Wraeth composed himself, "That being said, I will admit that my father is a destructive force upon this world. He did not intend to cause all of the death and suffering of The Great Arising, the movements of R'lyeh are beyond even his control, but he _has_ made rebuilding your society almost impossible. Humans are highly intelligent, especially when it comes to destruction, and he does not want any opposition to his rule." He took a sip of water, "By human standards, my father is evil. By the standards of The Elder Gods, he is evil. I don't agree with everything he does. Some of it makes me sick just thinking about it. But he is still _my father_, and I _love_ him."

How could she expect a boy to hate his father, evil though he was?

To be continued . . .


	31. Chapter 31

The Great Arising

Chapter 31

Dodomeki hovered nearby, watching. Always watching. That was what he had been created for, after all. He had been in existence for almost 4,000 years, and all but the last 600 or so had been spent patrolling the lair of Lo Pan. _The Eyes of Lo Pan_. But Lo Pan was long dead. He himself had almost died, having been shot in the 'head', for lack of a better term. He had been saved by Chxixsas, who found him interesting enough to spend the time and energy to heal and fortify. He had spent several centuries in The Shadow Library, before being gifted to Torren-Wraeth. Now he lived with Torren-Wraeth and Eikichi. They were much better masters than Lo Pan, treating him as an equal. Lo Pan had been magically connected to Dodomeki, and one had felt the other's pain. He had not felt his creator die, he had been unconscious, or perhaps even dead, when the ancient wizard finally succumbed, but it was still traumatic. His sole reason for existence had been to serve Lo Pan. But Chxixsas had given him a new assignment, Caretaker of The Shadow Library, before transferring his control to Torren-Wraeth. He had seen more of the world in the last year than he had in the previous 4,000.

He was also becoming more aware of his own existence. In the past he had merely been a set of eyes for his creator, with no real thought or purpose outside of the most simple of instincts. He moved about, avoided obstacles, hid when necessary, but never really thought for himself. Chxixsas had given him self-awareness, and his time with Torren-Wraeth and his friends was building both his intellect and personality. He wasn't at the level of a human, yet, but he had come far from being a mindless puppet of eyes and flesh.

He kept his distance from Karen, as she carried a gun. Though he was now bullet-proof, practically indestructible, in fact, he still shied away from firearms. Being shot once was more than enough.

He slipped through one of the small tunnels carved into the building for his amusement, taking in the elaborate carvings meant only for him.

The dawn was coming.

He floated leisurely down the passage and opened a small portal, emerging outside into the cool morning air. The sun was just beginning to peak through the thick trees. It was a dark, dense forest, but the house towered over most of the trees, granting an awesome panorama view. With all of his eyes, he could take full advantage of that view. He saw a Dark Young lurking in the shadows at the edge of the forest, branch-like tentacles twisting and writhing. He wondered if it was here because of the plane, or just patrolling its territory.

It didn't particularly matter. It couldn't reach the plane, if that was its objective. It seemed unconcerned as it turned and plodded its way back into the dense foliage. He floated up to the roof to look over the plane.

Karen was already there, working on the small engine. Dodomeki knew nothing of mechanics or airplanes, so he had no idea what she was doing, besides cursing and occasionally kicking the thing in frustration.

Fortunately, he didn't need an airplane to fly.

She turned and saw him, muttered something he couldn't quite make out, and went back to work. He floated off, not wanting to upset her. She did have a gun, after all.

Sometimes, very, very rarely, he would catch a glimpse of a tall, pale figure in long Chinese robes. A ghost, and one he was very familiar with. The lost soul of Lo Pan, cursed by his own gods and doomed to wander the Earth for all eternity. Insubstantial and powerless, he would swiftly fade away.

It was sad, really. But it was his own fault. He had been an evil man, and committed murder many, many times, that was what had gotten him cursed in the first place. He wondered why Torren-Wraeth didn't simply drive him away. Perhaps he couldn't see him, or perhaps it was merely an illusion.

If it really was Lo Pan, he had now become the very thing he had created Dodomeki to be, a silent watcher in a vibrant world.

To be continued . . .

I assume Dodomeki can hear because that would have made him a more effective spy for Lo Pan. He could watch and listen to his enemies. I haven't seen _Big Trouble in Little China_ in about 20 years, so I don't remember if he could hear or not.


	32. Chapter 32

The Great Arising

Chapter 32

_"But you will say "Why does the son not bear guilt for the father's error?" Since the son has done what is good and righteous, has kept all my statutes and observed them, he will surely keep living. The soul who sins is the one who will die. A son will bear no guilt because of the error of his father, and a father will bear no guilt because of the error of his son."_

Ezekiel 18:19-20

_New World Translation of The Holy Scriptures_

The group didn't know what to think. The book was certainly real. _Modern Aviation_. It was a late 20th century aeronautics manual, complete with technical schematics for various small aircraft. This would revolutionize The Resistance's understanding of aviation. And the son of Cthulhu himself had given it to them.

Torren-Wraeth might love his father, but he apparently didn't support him. They didn't know what to think of Eikichi, despite his outrageous style he was surprisingly quiet. The eye-thing hovered about, darting around and watching everything. Despite the boys' assurances, it was fairly certain that it was serving as the eyes of a more powerful entity, perhaps even Cthulhu himself.

When Karen had returned with three creatures on her tail, the group had assumed the worst. But it appeared that they were friends. Jimmy had known of the existence of Torren-Wraeth, as he was well-known among ghouls as a benevolent creature who did all he could to help mortals. Eikichi was utterly unknown, probably due to the fact that he had only been alive about a year and a half. The Elder Sign had no power over them, certainly a good sign.

Kevin embraced his sister, "When we saw you in that place . . ."

"It's funny, but I wasn't worried at all." Karen replied, "Maybe they affected my mind, to calm me down. The only thing I was afraid of was that you might go out into the woods to look for me."

"I almost did." Kevin scowled, "If only we could use some form of long-range communication. But, the sky is so quiet, even one weak radio signal would be obvious to _them_ . . ."

"It's too bad humans aren't telepathic. Most humans, anyway. Then again, Cthulhu would probably pick up telepathic messages faster than radio waves."

"They certainly are . . . _Flamboyant_." Kevin indicated Eikichi and Torren-Wraeth.

"They insisted on coming. They said that another half-breed was hunting the _Freedom 1_, intending to kill me." She massaged the bridge of her nose, "Regardless, Cthulhu now knows about both the plane and us."

"He's probably know all along," Mary, a tall, strikingly attractive woman approached the twins, "He sees into our dreams. What can we hide from such a creature?"

They all knew that it was true. How could they hide anything from The Great Old Ones?

"Do you trust them, Karen?" Kevin asked.

"I think they're probably crazy, but they mean well enough."

"But do you trust them?"

"Yes. They're just children. I'm more worried about their parents coming to find them."

Eikichi was examining a motorcycle cobbled together from scavenged parts. He was impressed. These people made the most of what little they had, he'd seen an airplane, a crude automobile and several motorcycles. He climbed onto the seat. It was hard, the entire machine was by necessity minimalistic, a light-weight skeleton built for for speed and maneuverability, not comfort.

"You ride?" The small, skinny ghoul asked. "No. I mean I haven't. Yet." Eikichi replied, "It seems like it would be dangerous to ride this in a forest filled with . . . Creatures. Dark Young are slow and clumsy, but Goat-Spawn move like lightning. . ."

"They usually keep to themselves. Shub-Niggurath generally leaves us alone, unless we go out at night, when Her children are hunting and hungry. Our fight is with Cthulhu, not The Dark Mother." Jimmy looked toward the heavy compound doors. "We know we are only here on Her sufferance. We try not to push it too far."

"What do you use for fuel?"

"We brew our own fuel."

Eikichi laughed, "_Moonshine_?"

Jimmy laughed, displaying powerful teeth, "Exactly."

"Mind if I take it for a spin?"

Torren-Wraeth examined a sketch of a fish with tentacles, with the words '_Cthulhu Hates You_' surrounding it. A play on the 'Fish' symbol used by some Christian groups to portray Christ, though the symbolism was far, far older and represented something far different, far darker to beings schooled in the old ways. It had not been used to represent Christ until long after Jesus' death, and he probably wouldn't have approved of it. He'd condemned idolatry and, from what Torren-Wraeth understood of _The Bible_, said outright that he wasn't God anyway. He was God's _son_. He wanted people to worship his _Father_, not him.

But that was not the message of the _Cthulhu-Fish_.

_So, my father's an Anti-Christ . . ._ He shook his head, _It just keeps getting better and better._

He turned to the bent old man who was standing beside him, "It might be more accurate if it said '_Cthulhu doesn't know you exist_'. My father is capable of terrible hatred, hatred of The Elder Gods, hatred of his own twin, Kthanid. But individual humans?"

Marcus tapped the sketch with his cane, "I've heard of him singling out humans. Invading their minds, slowly driving them crazy."

"I know. Sometimes a human kills one of his priests or does something else to provoke his wrath . . ."

"He feeds off of fear. Ever hear of _Chorazin_?"

Of course he had heard of Chorazin, an avatar of his father who drew strength and substance by driving intelligent beings to fear and madness.

"Not to mention all the human sacrifices." Marcus added. His brown, wrinkled face betrayed disgust, "I've lived a long time, for a human. I've seen what Cthulhu and his servants do at those ceremonies . . ."

"Not just humans. Long before humans ruled the Earth the Pre-human would sacrifice their kind to him." Torren-Wraeth said sadly, "My father doesn't need such sacrifices, and I long ago refused to be a part of them."

"He doesn't need them, but he accepts them."

"The more I think about my father, the harder it becomes to defend him." He admitted. "I try not to think about it."

"You don't want to think about it because you're afraid of what it'd make you, as his son."

His facial tentacles stirred with agitation. It was true, of course. If his father was_ The Devil_, what would that make _him_?

To be continued . . .

_Jimmy Bone-Crusher_

Race - Ghoul (Bone-Crusher tribe)

Gender - Male

Height - 5'8"

Weight - 110 Lbs

Hair - Brown

Eyes - Reddish-Black

Alignment - Chaotic Good

Class - Mechanic

Patron Deity - Mordiggian

One of several ghouls who aid The Resistance, Jimmy works to undermine Cthulhu's authority. He helps keep the machines running, but he is also a fierce fighter who is not to be taken lightly.

_Marcus Carib_

Race - Human

Height - 5'2"

Weight - 92 Lbs

Eyes - Brown

Hair - Grey/Balding

Alignment - Chaotic Good

Class - Rebel Leader

Marcus is remarkably old for a human in The Resistance, in his late 80's. He leads the group through his years of experience fighting Cthulhu and his ilk. Though physically weak and forced to use a cane, he carries several special weapons designed to harm Mythos creatures at all times.


	33. Chapter 33

The Great Arising

Chapter 33

_'They' have always been here. Before Homo-Sapiens first tread upon the Earth, many races had risen to unfathomable heights and fell to near or total extinction. The great cone-creatures whose bodies were usurped by The Great Race of Yith. The Flying Polyps. The wise Elder Things and their rebellious slaves, the Shoggoths. The Serpent Folk, children of the god Yig. Even the Cthuli briefly ruled this world in antiquity, before R'lyeh sank beneath the waves. Humanity is merely the newest race to take a transient hold upon this tiny sphere and claim it for it's own. Who will rise up at humanity's twilight to claim the world anew? And how will they treat the pathetic remnants of the Elder Race that was once man?_

_Kidoumaru_

Yoshida Kaien

She'd wondered what they would do. You can't keep secrets from telepathic demigods. Torren-Wraeth walked away from Marcus and headed toward her as his friend and Jimmy started up the bikes.

"What's your name?" Torren-Wraeth asked gently.

"Mary. Mary Carter." She replied. She knew that he knew what she was, but she wasn't comfortable discussing it.

_I mean your real name . . ._ He switched to telepathy for privacy's sake.

_Ssybil._

Torren-Wraeth had seen through her illusions at once. At first he considered the possibility that one of The Children of Yig had openly joined The Resistance, but as she was disguised as a human and the others apparently didn't know her true nature, it seemed unlikely. He had to admire her skill, if she could fool ghouls into thinking she was human, she was a formidable illusionist indeed.

Besides, he needed to get his mind off of the troubling questions about his relationship with his father.

The serpent woman was tall, like most of her kind, a large serpent with well-muscled humanoid arms and legs. Of course, to everyone else she appeared to be a beautiful human woman with long, slender limbs and fine features. Instead of her bald, scaly pate long, reddish-blonde hair framed elegant cheekbones and slit orange eyes became soft green orbs. He could see her tongue flicker out of her lipless mouth in agitation.

_Don't worry, I won't give you away. Why are you here?_

_To protect my people. As you probably already know, we have a city only a few miles from here. We need to know whether or not the humans plan to attack us._

Torren-Wraeth sat on a wooden crate beside her, _Your people are nothing if not logical. The Children of Yig are famed for their wisdom. They ruled the planet, once, long before Atlantis sank into the sea. _

_Until that killer Kull came. Until the humans slaughtered us. Until we had to hide our true faces behind hypnotism and magic. Until they stole our world and ruined it with their pollution and radiation. I remember. We live long, long lives, I remember Kull the Slayer._

King Kull of Atlantis was one of the first humans to rise up against their reptilian masters. He built an entire civilization upon the corpse of the old. He freed humanity from slavery, and then performed one of the largest genocides in the history of the planet, attempting to exterminate the serpent people and the other Elder Races. He very nearly succeeded. Even now, over thirty three thousand years later, the serpent people had not fully recovered. This had, of course, been long before Torren-Wraeth's birth, though he had witnessed similar atrocities committed against the Cthonians in the twentieth century by the sorcerer Titus Crow. He had seen so many cases of human genocidal tendencies toward each other that he'd lost count after Cambodia in the 1970's. Of all races in the universe, even the Shan, the sadistic Insects from Shaggai, only humans were so perverse and twisted to practice such acts against their own kind. It was amazing they had, as a species, survived World War III, much less The Rise of R'lyeh. The serpent people had every right to be wary of them.

_Do they know of your people's presence? _

_Yes, but they are more interested in your father than mine._

_Yig has been good to humanity, they have no reason to hate him._

_Since when are humans reasonable? _She replied.

_Good point. What do you make of this band?_

_Primitive idealists. Even the strongest of human rebels could not defeat the weakest of Cthulhu's Spawn. Their cause is hopeless._

Torren-Wraeth shrugged, _So I tell them, but they won't listen. _

_Don't humans have a Patron Saint of Lost Causes?_

_Saint Jude, if I recall correctly. _Torren-Wraeth shook his head,

_If they turn upon us, we will be ready, this time._

Eikichi revved up the light engine on the motorbike and steered himself out of the compound, followed closely by Jimmy.

_If Cthulhu left tomorrow, do you think humans would continue to live in peace with ghouls and deep ones?_

_Probably not._ Torren-Wraeth had seen too much of humanity to trust in their abilities for peaceful coexistence with each other, much less non-human sentients. But he was also aware that humans did hold a monopoly on prejudice and cruelty. _But what about your people? What are their intentions toward humans and ghouls?__  
><em>

_We no longer seek total dominance over the Earth, but we recognize that humanity will likely try to exterminate us once more, given the chance. We will keep our distance, but if they provoke us, we will strike._

_I think it will be a long time before you have to worry about human aggression. For now you are all equal._

_We respect Cthulhu's power, but we serve Yig. This war is not our concern._

The Serpents were isolationists, preferring to avoid the other sentient races. Ssybil's community was built into the walls of a massive, abyssal crevasse of sundered rock that had been torn open by The Worldquake centuries ago. They were far too intelligent and practical a people to challenge Cthulhu's power, unlike the stubborn, hopeful humans.

Perhaps that was for the best. It was not for him to judge.

To be continued . . .

_Ssybil_

Mary Carter

Race - Serpent People

Gender - Female

Eyes - Orange

Hair - None

Scales - Green

Height - 6'5"

Weight -

Class - Spy

Alignment - Neutral

Patron Deity - Yig

The Serpent People are left alone by Cthulhu, but they don't trust humans. Ssybil is one of many to infiltrate human society and discern their intentions toward their kind. She is well over 30,000 years old.

King Kull was created by Robert E. Howard, who also created Conan the Barbarian.


	34. Chapter 34

The Great Arising

Chapter 34

'_If the seaweed cities rise we will bomb them. The madmen who lead the people into Perdition - We kill them. We will corrupt their immortal youths and poison the bellies of their shrieking beasts. They claim that the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones shall be - But, for a few years, we lived too. Though death and dissolution take us, still this is so.'_

A human Resistance member.

_Worms_

by Pat Harrigan

Living in a dense forest with no roads of any kind made biking a difficult proposition, at best. Bikes had to be light and quick, the ability to jump a fallen log or outrun a stampeding Dark Young. They also had to be quiet, to avoid drawing unfriendly attention to themselves. It brought a whole new meaning to the term 'off-road cycling'. Of course, nothing went on in a forest without The Dark Mother knowing it. She tolerated the rebels, and Eikichi wondered if perhaps She was one of those who had repented after their long imprisonment.

With The Elder Gods, who knew? Jimmy Bonecrusher wove his way through the trees with the ease of long practice. Eikichi was following the Ghoul's lead, after all, he knew his way around the forest.

"Is this how you communicate with other cells?" Eikichi asked, "I noticed you didn't have any radio equipment."

"We have many ways, but this is the most fun." He replied, "We can't use radios and such because they're too easy to pick up and track. Some groups use horses, but they make me nervous, too unpredictable."

Some animals had an instinctual fear of non-human races such as Serpent Folk, and even sub-groups of humanity, such as Ghouls and God-Blooded hybrids. Almost all animals could be summoned and controlled by Shub-Niggurath or Her faithful, because She was a nature deity.

Many deities had specific animals associated with them, Yig, of course, had serpents, Baoht Z'uqqa-Mogg and Zstylzhemgni were attended by swarms of insects. Others, such as Y'Golonac were so utterly repulsive that even the lowest of non-sentient vermin avoided them, their worshipers were the most vile and perverse of the already corrupted sentients given to complete madness and depravity.

The forest was dark, even at noon, and it was only by smell that Jimmy could tell a tree from a Dark Young. He was on good terms with the Dark Young, The Goat-Spawn and The Chosen, hence he was the one sent on recon and communication detail. But there were all sorts of things in the forest, from natural beasts such as bears to the occasional wandering monstrosity with no allegiance at all. His senses were always on alert while in the forest. He wondered if anything would dare attack him in the company of a young Great Old One, but didn't want to find out.

"This is pretty fun." Eikichi said, "I've never done this before."

It was amazing to Jimmy that the apparently teenage boy riding beside him was little more than a year old, even more so than the fact the one they'd left at the bunker was over one thousand years old. One expected Great Old Ones to be . . . Well, _Old_. He wondered if the children of Great Old Ones and Outer Gods grew up to become new Great Old Ones and Outer Gods. His own deity, Mordiggian, was enigmatic and solitary, dwelling in the eternal darkness of his realm.

"Does Mordiggian have a family?" He asked.

Eikichi thought for a moment, he still held some of Chxixsas' knowledge, but it took time to sort it all out. "Well, he's the son of Zu-che-quon, The Dark Silent One and brother of Cynothoglys, The Mortician God and Er'nrawr, Lord of Entropy. He has no mate or offspring."

"Who are they? I think I've heard the name Cynothoglys before, but I've never heard of the others, though."

"Cynothoglys is The Bringer of Death." Eikichi explained. Though Ghouls were eminently familiar with much regarding death, some deities were obscure even to them, "Those who see him, or even a representation of him, are drawn to him, and he to them, until they walk willingly into his deadly embrace. Er'nrawr is, to the best of my memory, a god of death and physical decay. He represents the physical decay of all things, from flesh to the structure of the universe itself. And Zu-che-quon is the embodiment of Ultimate Darkness. Or, perhaps, _blindness_. Any mortal, human or animal, in its presence suffers an almost unbearable urge to gouge out their own eyes, so that they may see the 'Holy Darkness' in it's truest form. You do _not_ want to meet it."

"I guess nothing affects you."

"There are things that disgust and horrify us. There are even things of which Cthulhu himself is afraid. We are not emotionless, we can simply endure more than normal people without going insane." He smiled thinly, "As a Ghoul, you see things that ordinary humans could not endure. It is much the same with us."

"I don't want to know what could scare Cthulhu . . ."

"To tell you the truth, neither do I."

Back at the base,

"Perhaps they can join us."

"Are you crazy? They won't turn against their parents!"

"I have heard tales . . ." Marcus settled into a dusty chair, "Children, even_ their _children, are still children. Rebellious, confused, sometimes even innocent. We have Ghouls and Deep Ones who aid us, and not all Great Old Ones oppress us. Some, like Yig, even help mankind. They are races of individuals, not a hive-mind. What powerful allies they could make!"

"_He that can smile at death, as we know him; who can flourish in the midst of diseases that kill off whole peoples. Oh, If such a one was to come from God, and not The Devil, what a force of good might he not be in this world of ours."_

Kevin raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"It's a quote from _Dracula_, by Bram Stoker." 'Mary' spoke up, "Though we are hardly dealing with Vampires."

Torren-Wraeth could hear them, of course. He had no desire to be drawn into the madness of rebellion. They could call him a defeatist if they wanted, but humanity simply_ could not_ overcome The Great Old Ones, by force or by magic. It was cold, hard fact. The Great Old Ones were and The Great Old Ones would be.

The elderly human walked toward him. "You say that your father doesn't need sacrifices . . ." Marcus began.

"Yes." Torren-Wraeth frowned.

"We've both witnessed terrible things. Seen people, of all races, die horribly in sacrifice to Great Old Ones and Outer Gods."

"I've seen billions die in wars over traditional human religions. I've seen entire countries ravaged in the name of _The Prince of Peace _alone. We do not have a monopoly on cruelty or hypocrisy." Torren-Wraeth's voice was bitter, "The world was evil before R'lyeh rose, and it will still be evil long after Cthulhu has left it."

"Only if we allow it."

Torren-Wraeth laughed, but there was no humor in it, "Every war that was ever fought was supposed to bring peace. None of us can fix this mess of a universe."

"So you merely stand by and watch as they are tied down to the alter and cut apart?"

The young hybrid's eyes narrowed, glinting in the dim light of the bunker. "No! I take no part -"

"But do you do anything to _stop_ it?"

Torren-Wraeth hissed angrily, "What am I expected to do?! What can I do?"

"You can do _something_."

"It's not that simple! If you interfere in a ceremony to summon something like Azathoth, the summoner may lose control and the being break free. If Azathoth were to break free on Earth, it would be the end of everything on the planet, even R'lyeh. I'm _not_ a god. I may seem to have great power to you, but I'm a weakling among my father's people. And I_ can_ die. I can't stop powerful creatures, and I don't know much of magic. I can't stumble blindly into a situation. Don't you think I want to do something? It's just not that easy!"

Karen looked at him oddly, "You have tried, haven't you?"

"Yes. Yes, I've stopped some sacrifices," Torren-Wraeth admitted, "And I've fought murderers. But I also know that for every life you save there are dozens you can't."

"But you can still save _some_."

The young Half-Spawn sat wearily upon a large crate, "Another of my friends, Tek, has been fighting since long before I was born. He used to raid temples to Moloch and Ashtoreth, to whom humans sacrificed their children, with his army of Ghouls. He killed the priests on their own altars and let the Ghouls raise the children. Even now he'll sometimes act against _really_ sick cults, and sometimes I help him. Sometimes I act on my own. But I don't kill unless I have no choice and there are always more to take their place."

Karen sat beside him, "You said you lost hope in a better world a long time ago. Maybe you can't save the world, but you can make it brighter for a few people."

"I have worked with humans before. It is a never-ending war. _That which was made crooked cannot be made straight_. I -"

He was interrupted by the sound of the bunker doors opening, then closing again. Jimmy and Eikichi parked their bikes and walked into the common room. Eikichi already knew what was going on, after all, he had Dodomeki keeping an eye on things. He was surprised, though, that the humans would so openly approach them, the children of The Enemy, with offers of an alliance. Of course, none of them knew anything about Chxixsas, but they certainly knew about Cthulhu.

He wondered for a moment, if this was '_The Reckoning_' Nodens had spoken of. Turning the children against their parents. If so, it was a cunning and effective, if unethical, strategy on their part.

Chxixsas wandered the halls of The Shadow Library, his rat-thing servants skittering about amongst the nigh endless scrolls, monoliths, texts, tablets and tomes. Torren-Wraeth held his own library/museum, which was quite impressive, though not so comprehensive. Of course, Torren-Wraeth also collected personal mementos, art and non-mystical artifacts. The Shadow Sage had a few works of art, but his main concern was function, not form. There was, of course, legitimate knowledge to be gained from study of the decorative arts, but not of the kind that interested him. His goals were more esoteric and metaphysical than aesthetic.

He was vaguely aware that Torren-Wraeth and Eikichi were on the verge of going _completely_ rogue, but it did not trouble him, aside from the obvious danger that it would place them in. Cthulhu would likely not bother himself with them, but if _Hastur's_ spawn, Tek joined them in a united front. . . Chxixsas would not oppose them, but, of course, he was not actually worshiped or given sacrifices. He might grant knowledge to one who sought it of him, (and was fit to wield it), but he did not expect or accept sacrifice, sentient or otherwise.

Still it troubled him, not knowing what the other powers would do. He could, however, postulate their reactions. His conclusions were rather bleak. He might be forced to step in himself. Though not a fighter, he had other strengths, not the least of them his vast intellect and knowledge of the arcane. He was confident that wisdom and strategy could overcome brute strength, if handled with utmost skill.

He sincerely hoped that it would not come to that.

To be continued . . .

_Worms_ is a short story by Pat Harrigan in the anthology _Arkham Tales - Legends of The Haunted City_. It has a number of great stories, including _Worms_. I use the quote without permission, hopefully I wont be sued.

_Zu-che-quon_ was created by Henry Kuttner and appears in several of his stories.

_Cynothoglys_ was created by Thomas Ligotti.

_Er'nrawr_ was created by Chaosium for their Call of Cthulhu card game. He/it is described as 'Death and Entropy manifest.'

_Yibb-Tstll_ was created by Brian Lumley

I do not know the actual lineage/family tree of Mordiggian, so I made up one.


	35. Chapter 35

The Great Arising

Chapter 35

_"Do you know what a traitor is? A traitor is someone who doesn't know who the enemy is." _

Commander Millington

_Doctor Who: The Curse of Fenric_

They stood atop the flat roof of the structure, the bright sun shining down upon them. "You realize what you are proposing, don't you?"

"Yes." Torren-Wraeth replied simply.

"What would your father do?"

"I don't know."

Tek scratched his golden head. He had long fought sentient sacrifice, but he hadn't dared to take on an actual power beyond the level of Dagon or Moloch, "I wonder what _my_ father would do . . ."

"Do you even care?" Eikichi asked.

"They already think I'm insane. I don't think it will matter." Tek smiled, "It will be like the old days." He wrapped an arm around Torren-Wraeth's shoulders. "Fighting evil!"

"Rebels without a clue." Torren-Wraeth smirked.

Elsewhere,

"Do you see it now, Nodens?" Kthanid asked, "As I have said, he has long been more in line with our goals than his father's."

"Yes, I see it now." Nodens conceded. "I wonder how many they can pull away from The Darkness. . ."

"Our enemies have sired countless offspring, and we know that some already oppose their parents' wickedness. Others are confused, and they are more open to 'alien' notions of love and compassion."

"They have sown the seeds of their own defeat."

"_The Reckoning_ has begun."

The inverted pyramid,

"We don't have to go after Cthulhu, of course. We could start with the likes of Keziah Mason, remember her?" Tek asked.

"Yeah, I do. I also remember she was an agent of Nyarlathotep."

"Who was killed by a mortal. A human." Eikichi pointed out.

"Who then had his heart eaten out by her familiar, Brown Jenkin." Torren-Wraeth shrugged, "_No_. We can't just ignore my father's followers, if we find them about kill anyone . . . We _stop_ them."

"Play no favorites. That's only fair." Tek rubbed his chin, "I know you don't like killing, and Eikichi has never even fought . . . He wasn't created with the capacity for violence."

"I can kill, if need be. I just don't want to. As for Eikichi," He turned to the pale youth, "You don't have to fight. We can find other ways for you to help."

"Dodomeki could scout out the situations, see what's going on before we break it up. If a ceremony has became critical or unstable, we may need to save more than the sacrificial victim. If an . . . _Entity_ is already there, it may attack us for interrupting the sacrifice. Being offered a meal and having it snatched away doesn't sit well with most beings."

"Yes, it may turn on the summoner. That would be a shame, wouldn't it?" Tek chuckled.

"There must be others who feel this way. Beings that hate what the others do to mortals." Torren-Wraeth looked out over the vast forest, "We need to find them. Organize. Work together to help the mortal races."

Tek laughed, "Like superheroes!"

"There's still the practical problem of _power_." Eikichi observed, "At the moment there are only four of us. Dodomeki can't fight, though his telepathy can help him untie ropes, snuff out candles, open doors . . ." He shook his head, "And some people sacrifice themselves _willingly_. I know you don't want to hear this, Torren-Wraeth, but sometimes it could, arguably, be considered a mutually beneficial arrangement. He-Who-Walks-Behind-The-Rows . . ."

"Is a demonic monster."

"True, but look at it from _His_ perspective. He keeps his followers fed, safe and organized, and in return they give themselves to Him when they mature. They are His crop as He is theirs'."

"Few beings believe themselves to be evil. I'm sure He sees Himself as benevolent. I don't. He doesn't just have his followers, _children_, willingly give themselves to him, he has them followers murder innocent people, including other children. Besides," He gave a grim smile, "I hate corn."

"I know. I'm not saying He's right. My point is, where is the line between _amoral_ and _evil_?" Eikichi turned his pale face to the bright sky, "We are not gods, nor are we perfect. How do we judge others? Murder, of course, is evil, or rape, but beyond the obvious evils, what are we to do?"

Torren-Wraeth cast his eyes to the ground, "I myself once brought Y'Golonac to Earth, to exact vengeance for Goro, a vengeance that would have disgusted him. I still bear the stain of that evil act upon my soul. The Obscenity must never be allowed to walk the Earth again." His voice grew hard. "We will keep creatures that may damage or destroy the planet from being summoned. We will stop unwilling human sacrifices. We will protect others, beyond that, it is between them and their gods." Torren-Wraeth walked to the edge of the structure and looked down to see a Dark Young lurking in the shadows, "I'm not proposing overthrowing anyone. I simply think we should protect those who cannot protect themselves."

"Spoken like a true superhero."

"There is another thing to consider," Eikichi said, "If we do this, we may not be able to go back. Back home, I mean. You and I might be _persona non grata_ in R'lyeh, and you," He indicated Tek, "Might no longer enjoy the full privileges of Carcosa. Then there are your siblings. Ked and others like him will definitely go after us, even our respective parents do not."

Torren-Wraeth considered this. It could cost him his home, his father . . . His _mother_. Torren-Wraeth was very close to his mother, Te'ree. She had been the main reason he had remained in R'lyeh for so long. But her loyalty lay with her master, Cthulhu. How would she react if her only son, by Cthulhu himself, began fighting against the very god she worshiped? It would force her into a terrible position, her loyalty to her god, or her love for her son.

He let out a long, mournful sigh, _Forgive me, mother._ "Yes, we might become traitors, outcasts. But I believe that it is worth it."

"As do I."

"Count me in." Tek grinned.

"We have." All three turned swiftly toward the source of the new voice. It was a shimmering, insubstantial golden mass of tentacles that dwarfed the great building on which they stood. It was the face of Kthanid. They were looking at an astral projection. "Tektaktequataquarl, son of Hastur, you and your child Naoltaba have freed of _The Curse_ by order of The Elder Gods. In my opinion, it is long overdue, but such is life."

"Why? Why now?" Tek asked, slightly awed.

"The Elder Gods are finally convinced of your . . . _Nobility_."

Tek smiled thinly, "So, Ol' Stone-Face finally thawed?"

There came a sound, that could only be described as a horrid mixture of laughter and gurgling, "Nodens has agreed. Though I doubt he would appreciate the appellation. I would think you overjoyed at the revelation."

"I am. I'm sure it will hit me later."

There was yet another factor to consider. The Bloated Woman, avatar of Nyarlathotep and mother of Tek's child, demanded brutal human sacrifices. Tek truly loved her with an almost human passion. How would he deal with this conundrum?

Great Cthulhu had cast his mind into The Endless Void, and found no answers. Yog-Sothoth had sent no signs or omens. He was tired and frustrated. Why did his god not answer him? Who could know, as Yog-Sothoth was as far removed from Cthulhu as Cthulhu was from mortals. The fact that He was his 'grandfather' meant little, the blood thinned the further one moved from The Primal Source.

How would he oppose his own mate?But it had not been entirely fruitless. Cthulhu now knew that Torren-Wraeth, his own blood, was an agent of The Elder Gods and had completely forsaken his worship. His god would not answer him, and his child was turning against him.

He did not know what to do.

Chxixsas had advised him to leave them be. Torren-Wraeth did not actively oppose him, just sentient sacrifices. He knew the boy still loved him, he was simply too sentimental. Too human. But it was more than simply one rebellious child, he was seeking to recruit others to his cause. He was loathe to move against his own child, but he could not protect him anymore.

Only time would tell.

To be continued . . .

Once again I steal from the great Stephen King. One could argue that He-Who-Walks-Behind-The-Rows has a beneficial arrangement with His children, as Eikichi pointed out. But He also has those children who displease Him and any outsiders brutally murdered. I don't know if Mr. King intended for Him to have any positive qualities, but it's hard to view Him as _purely_ evil, as He does provide some measure of care and protection for His followers. I guess He's a necessary evil. The fact that He's responsible for their plight in the first place, by killing all the adults should be taken into account as well. Maybe he's just a parasite.

Philosophy gives me headaches.


	36. Chapter 36

The Great Arising

Chapter 36

The Great Library. Its squat facade in the Canadian wilderness belied the incredible treasure trove that lay beyond its massive doors and many-headed, many-legged Curator. Books, scrolls, data crystals and less recognizable forms of preserving knowledge stretched for miles upon miles. And that was just the library section, the museum seemed infinite. As a pocket universe, it was, of course, finite, but it was still inconceivably huge to a mortal mind.

"What are you reading?" Torren-Wraeth asked.

Eikichi looked up from the record crystals he was examining, " Ancient Graphic Novels. _Shade, the Changing Man_, to be exact. DC and Vertigo. We have quite a bit in common, outsiders living in worlds filled with tangible madness . . ."

"Hopefully that madness won't extend to being briefly turned into a woman."

"That was a bit _odd_ . . . But, then, the whole series is supposed to be bizarre."

"Sometimes I wonder . . ." Torren-Wraeth sat cross-legged on the floor of the library, "If old Dr. Wertham wasn't right after all."

"Doctor Who?"

"Doctor Fredric Wertham. He was one of the biggest proponents of censorship in the 20th century. He was a psychiatrist who truly believed thatviolent, suggestive comic books were corrupting America's youth. He even wrote a book about it "_Seduction of the Innocent_." Like most people with good intentions, he couldn't see beyond black and white and eventually became a fanatic. He finally succeeded at getting the government to adopt a standard that all comic books had to go by. This was in the 1940's and '50's. They eventually overturned it, giving them free reign, so to speak. By the time everything fell apart, there were comics that turned _my_ stomach."

"What do you think he would think of _Shade_?"

"He would have condemned it on the basis of hundreds, if not thousands, of reasons. And _Shade_ is relatively tame for the period. Have you read Vertigo's _Swamp Thing_? The things Anton Arcane did and became . . ."

"No. I'll keep that in mind. I'm almost done with _Shade_, any recommended reading?"

"Comics?" Torren-Wraeth shrugged, "I was never really into them. I only liked certain characters, not really any titles. If you like Vertigo, _American Freak: A Tale of The Un-Men_ was pretty . . . _Interesting_." He smiled thinly, "You know, I don't think Tek was being literal about becoming 'Super-Heroes."

"Super Hero is a subjective term." He laughed, "And I know one comic you never read. _Thor_."

Torren-Wraeth groaned, If there was one thing he hated, it was Old English, "I hate it when every deity in the universe is speaking in Old English! Archaic English is _not_ The Divine Language! Why does a Norse god speak Old English? Why do the Inuit gods sound like they are quoting _The King James_? _The Bible_ was written in Hebrew and Greek, _not_ Old English!"

"When you finish ranting, maybe you could show me where you put _The Necronomicon_?"

"In the Non-Fiction section." He stood up and looked around at the rows upon rows of collected knowledge, "Though I'm not exactly sure where that is. We'll have to ask The Curator. I was going to pick up _De Vermis Mysteriis_ myself. It has a lot of information on sacrifices and Summoning. It may help us to anticipate our enemies' actions."

"Wait a minute. You've read _The Necronomicon,_ _Cultes des Ghoules, The King in Yellow_ and _Massa di Requiem per Shuggay_, you own a whole gallery of Richard Upton Pickman's art, you have looked into the unspeakable face of Yibb-Tstll and mere comic books turn your stomach?"

"Some of those things would have turned Pickman's stomach." Torren-Wraeth grimaced, "Like I said, I think Dr. Wertham was right in a lot of ways."

"There are two other books we have to read." Eikichi said grimly, "_The Goddess of The Black Fan_ and _The Tale of Priest Kwan_."

Torren-Wraeth nodded. The two sacred texts of The Order of The Bloated Woman, who venerated that avatar of Nyarlathotep with whom Tek had fallen in love. As he had said, they could play no favorites. He hadn't read either text in many years, and had doubtless forgotten much. Besides, when dealing with mystic tomes, one could spend years _reading_ without truly _understanding_ the true meaning of cryptic words, symbols and illustrations. But he needed to understand the cult and The Bloated Woman herself, as much as he could, if he needed to fight her. Many of her sacrificial victims and those who fed her monstrous hunger did so willingly, but not all.

"How are we going to deal with the various incarnations of Shub-Niggurath? We live in Her territory, at Her sufferance ."

"She rarely accepts sentient sacrifices. She prefers large animals that Her Young can feast upon. The days of Ashtoreth and Ishtar are long gone."

"Good riddance." Tek approached them, Naoltaba and Dodomeki hovering beside him, "Though She may still hold a grudge against me . . ."

"I doubt it, else she would have acted by now." Eikichi noted, "Of The Outer Gods, The All-Mother is the one who is most beneficent toward mankind. Most of Her avatars actually help people. Unless they try to ruin the wilds as they did before R'lyeh rose."

"Umr At-Tawil is also well-disposed toward mortals." Torren-Wraeth was familiar with the many forms of Yog-Sothoth, his father was High Priest of The Outer God, after all. The Most Ancient One, however, was like Mordiggian in that, while he bore malice toward none save those who directly attacked him (unlike Mordiggian, Umr at-Tawil had no worshippers to protect) Neither did he fight for mortals. His purpose was to guard The Gate of The Silver Key, nothing more. "And perhaps we could convince Yig to help us . . ."

"We don't even know for sure what we are going to do," Eikichi pointed out, "Other than save lives."

"I was thinking of something. It's been in my mind for a few eons. Sorcerers and other magic users regularly _Summon_ and _Bind_ other beings against their will. You hate being _Summoned_, so do I. Why should we let our kin be enslaved by petty spell-pickers? What do you suppose would happen, if, say, a wizard _Summoned_ and tried to Bind a Dimensional Shambler, and three other creatures arrived with it?" Tek laughed, "That would deter unwanted _Summonings_, I'd wager."

"You attack one of us, you attack all of us? I kind of like that idea." Torren-Wraeth replied, "But we don't have allies to back it up. _yet_. And some Summonings are desired, the beings are given offerings of food and items of power. That is how some deities communicate with there followers, _by proxy_."

"True." Tek shook his golden head, "Why does everything have to be so complicated!?"

"What of Hastur?" Torren-Wraeth asked.

"He has no objection, for the time being. When angry deities start banging on the gates of Carcosa demanding we stop stealing their sacrifices, his opinion may change. Cthulhu?"

"I have not seen or spoken to him." Torren-Wraeth said sadly, "Chxixsas told Eikichi that my father is extremely dissapointed, but that he will probably not act against us."

"Probably?"

"Nothing is certain in life anymore, not even death."

To be continued . . .

Notes:

Old English is one of my biggest pet peeves as well. When I read the Inuit gods speaking in 'thee's' and 'thou's' in _Alpha Flight_, I wanted to scream. It's not only ridiculous that the Inuit pantheon be speaking in Old English, it's insulting to take a culture and adapt it to fit some other culture's idea of how they should sound. Thank God they had the Asgardians speaking modern English in the _Thor_ and _Avengers_ movies!

I must confess that I have never read _Shade, The Changing Man_.

I think Dr. Wertham was a good man with good intentions, but, as I said, he saw everything in strict black and white, with nothing in between. He was an imperfect human being trying to force everyone to live by his moral standards, which goes beyond good intentions into fanaticism. I respect him, he did a lot of good in his life. He ran a low-cost mental health clinic for poor black kids, (This was an incredible act for a white man in the 1940's), and worked on dealing with mental health in the justice system. I actually agree with him on some points about comics and TV. I just think he went too far.

He would have condemned almost all of my work, this story included.


	37. Chapter 37

The Great Arising

Chapter 37

"And then there was the time I appeared to that pompous wannabe wizard Aleister Crowley as The Devil." They all laughed, "_The Wickedest Man in The World._ _The Great Beast_. Bah! He wet himself!" Tek smirked wickedly, "He never put _that_ in any of books!"

Torren-Wraeth suddenly walked over to one of the amber windows, "It appears our guests are beginning to arrive."

They had sent out a call for like-minded entities to join them in their battle, and now they were coming.

They gathered in the clearing beneath the crescent moon, as the house was too small to accommodate them.

The Ghouls came first, of course, Jimmy had gathered a large number of his clan to hear them out. A Child of Tsathoggua paced on mastodonic hooves. Dark Young and other offspring of Shub-Niggurath slid from the shadowed forest. Other Hybrids arrived. A lesser 'Brother' of Chaugnar-Faugn, the terrible elephant-headed god of the Tcho-Tchos. And less describable things. Tek, being the more outspoken of the little group, explained their ideals, their purpose.

To protect life. To protect each other and humanity. To protect reality itself.

They would steal dangerous grimoires, and hide or destroy them. They would snatch victims from the altars. They would work to prevent the Summoning of such evils as Y'Golonac. They would respond to their fellows in distress, and punish those sorcerers who abused them.

One figure stood apart from the rest, standing in shadow. He was well over nine feet tall, and his presence here amazed Torren-Wraeth. The figure kept to the shadows of the great building. Tall, gaunt with abnormally long arms, hands and claws, he was almost skeletal. Thick black veins throbbed visibly under his reddish-brown skin. His most notable aspect was his head, disproportionately large for his spindly body with deep pits for shining green eyes and a tooth-filled mouth that stretched from ear to ear. His brown hair was stringy and reached halfway down his naked back. Of all the beings to heed the call, he was the most surprising, for he was, in a literal sense, a_ Bogeyman_. Bloody Bones, Rawhead, Der Schwarze Mann, the race (and they were a race) was known by many names in many lands. Like Dimensional Shamblers and Tind'losi, they wandered _The Spaces Between_, only briefly touching upon the mortal planes. Schrödinger's Cats with claws and fangs. They were not as terrible as many of the tales made them out to be, but they were still dark, fearsome creatures, not given to the role of protectors. They were empathic vampires, feeding primarily on the strongest emotion of all, _fear_. They could eat more mundane foods, but emotions gave them the most sustenance.

He stood with his long arms akimbo, listening silently as Tek and Torren-Wraeth explained their plans. Nobody questioned him. He had a reason for coming, which he would certainly make clear when and if he was ready.

Some of the beings left before they had even finished, uninterested in such trivial affairs or afraid of retribution by powerful beings angered by the loss of sacrifices. Others stayed on, and soon a small conspiracy began to form . . .

Eventually they dispersed, to carry their message to those who could not come and to ready themselves for whatever backlash awaited them. A few lingered, to speak with the ones who had called them to this place.

Eikichi turned to the taciturn Bogeyman, "What do we call you?"

"I have many names. I rather like _The Whispering Beast_. Or, _The Rake_."

"Why did you come here? What motivated -"

"I used to take pleasure in the fear of humans. One night I emerged from the shadows into . . ." He paused for a moment and closed his cavernous eyes, "Perhaps one day I shall speak of what I saw. Since then, I have wandered The Shadow Realms, bereft of purpose. Perhaps now I have found one. I have access wherever there is a shadow. Little can keep me out, and less can harm me. I will be your eyes in the night."

"And you are seen only by those you wish to see you," Torren-Wraeth said, "Even some of our other guests did not realize your presence."

"I prefer not to be seen, unless it suits my purposes."

"What of your kind? What of . . . _The Tall Man_?"

"Do you think _He_ cares? Even we do not know what He is, He is certainly not of us, and He does not trouble Himself with the likes of us. As for my people, we are creatures of dream and shadow, the physical world means little to us beyond supplying us with food. They will see me as mad, but as long as long as I do not endanger The Shadow Realms they have no reason to act against me. "

Tek was speaking to the elephant-headed creature, Tarik-Neg, though simultaneously keeping track of the others.

"It pains me to see beings suffer and die, gladly, in our honor, believing us gods who will grant them some great enlightenment or wondrous afterlife. I am sick of the lies. We must feed, I admit, but I do not . . . Enjoy being worshiped. Giving false hope. We drain their blood and leave the husks behind, of their 'souls', who knows? Perhaps Chaugnar-Faugn has such power, for He is mighty and terrible, but we do not." The creature's swaying trunk indicated his uneasiness, it was justified, for Chaugnar-Faugn was a vengeful and malevolent god.

"That is one reason we must help one another. Separate, we are weak, but together, we stand a chance. If you are concerned, you can take shelter in my cousin's library. It is almost impenetrable." Tek pointed out.

"I can't very well fight while hiding in a library."

"There are many ways to fight, not all of them violent. And this is no ordinary conflict. We need allies who actually know what we're dealing with and why. We need researchers as well as combatants."

"True enough." He conceded, "But do not underestimate Chaugnar-Faugn. Even now He knows, for our thoughts are linked. Though you severed the tie when I arrived, He knows why I came, and whom I came to meet."

"Trust me. We all understand the danger we are in." Tek's golden skin glowed in the moonlight, "But it is something we must accept."

To be continued . . .

Notes:

Coming to a closet near you . . .

He is not '_The_' Rake from Creepypasta. Bogeymen (and women) have many names, The Rake is one of them. Seriously, look up Bogeyman on Wikipedia and you'll find a list of dozens of names from all over the world. And they take names to better frighten their victims. They do not give their true names, for names are power.

He is also not related to Clive Barker's _Rawhead Rex,_ though I will admit they share some physical resemblance. Rawhead is actually a common name for The Bogeyman in some areas.

He can take many forms, this is just his 'base' form. He can imitate others or become whatever will gain the maximum emotional response. He can fit through tiny spaces or fill up entire rooms.

Tind'losi is another term for The Hounds of Tindalos. It comes from the story '_A Dangerous High_' by E.P. Berglund.

_The Tall Man_ is, of course, _The Slender Man_. And he's standing right behind you . . .

_Slender Man_ was created by Victor Surge. I currently have no plans for him to actually appear in my story.

_Chaugnar-Faugn_ and his (Greater) Brothers were created by Frank Belknap Long.


	38. Chapter 38

The Great Arising

Chapter 38

The blow sent Torren-Wraeth crashing to the ground. "How dare you!" Ked shouted as the young Half-Spawn wiped blue blood from his split lip, "How dare you betray our father!" Torren-Wraeth tried to keep his anger in check, and stood calmly, "I did not betray anyone. I simply seek to stop sapient sacrifices, to father or anyone else."

"Who are you to judge our father ?" Ked landed a few feet away, "You seek to protect these mortal cattle, but you are not one of them. Even you admit that they are treacherous beasts. You saw what happened to your mother's people. The Rapa Nui destroyed themselves! War, genocide, _cannibalism_. And you remember how badly humans treated your friend, Goro. You yourself called upon Y'Golonac to destroy them then."

Torren-Wraeth was painfully aware of these things, they still haunted him, despite the passage of centuries and the fall of empires. "Humanity is imperfect. So are we. I do not defend their actions. Man does not need Cthulhu, or The Devil, to do evil. That does not make it right to _murder_ them. There are good mortals. As the children of two worlds, we are in unique positions -"

"Speak for yourself! I am wholly loyal to my father. What are men? Vicious, stupid insects. Do you want humanity in charge of Earth again? I remember what they did to my mother, what they tried to do to me. You admit they are 'evil' by your inconsequential moral standards, yet you side with them?"

"I side with no one. I believe that life is sacred."

Ked laughed, "You can't call what mortals have '_life_'."

"You valued your mother's life, Ked, else you would not be so enraged by her murder. I propose fighting _human_ cults too, such as those who burned witches . . ."

Though he had not intended to do so, that remark angered the larger Half-Spawn. Ked fell upon his half-brother, pounding at his face with meaty fists. Eikichi moved behind him and pressed one of his rings to Ked's back, and he screamed as The Elder Sign burned into his green flesh. He back-handed Eikichi away. "NO!" Torren-Wraeth struck out with a closed fist, striking Ked in the chest with the force of a small meteorite. The sound of breaking bone cracked like thunder as several ribs were shoved into Ked's lungs. Ked gaped in shock as blue blood spurted from his mouth, and stumbled away from his half-brother. Torren-Wraeth, bloody, bruised and mad-eyed, rose and assumed an attack stance. Ked knew that he was protective of his friends, striking Eikichi had been a mistake. He also knew that he was seriously injured. "This is not over!" He opened a_ Gate_ and fled.

Torren-Wraeth turned toward his pale friend, "Are you alright, Eikichi?"

"I'm not hurt, but you are. Your hand and nose are broken. We need to get you home for _Healing_ and rest."

Torren-Wraeth barely felt the pain. He reached up to pinch off the blue blood flowing from his nose, "He's right, it's not over. We can expect more of this. Perhaps worse. Wait until Chaugnar-Faugn gets angry."

Back at the home, Eikichi began _Healing_ Torren-Wraeth's wounds, "We need to strengthen the house, structurally, that is, to ensure that it can stand up to attack."

"You could drop an H-bomb on this house and not rattle the windows."

"You could also tunnel beneath it and undermine the foundation. The Cthonians have made it clear they don't like our ideas."

"Humanity nearly exterminated them. They have a right to be angry, but I think they'd prefer to be left alone." Torren-Wraeth wiped the blood from his face with a towel, "You _do_ make a good point. Unfortunately, Cthonians and Dholes can burrow far deeper than any foundation. There are Cthonians living under R'lyeh."

"I suggest a slight dimensional shift." Utilizing Non-Euclidean geometry, a building could exist in multiple dimensions at once, making it difficult to attack. One of the reasons R'lyeh had survived eons of assault by water and mud was its unearthly architecture. It also took a high degree of skill. While both Eikichi and Torren-Wraeth possessed various artistic talents, neither had the engineering skills to perform such a task. "We might need help from my father." Eikichi observed.

Outside the wind began to howl, a storm was on its way.

Great Cthulhu sat uneasily upon his throne, "What shall I do, Chxixsas? My children are fighting amongst themselves. Torren-Wraeth has turned against me . . ."

"No, I do not believe he has. He does not hate you, in fact, he loves you." The white face hovered in a sea of black draped in voluminous red robes, "He is young, and sensitive to mortal suffering. He cannot stand by and allow people to be slaughtered."

"This is their curse, isn't it? The Elder Gods are turning our children against us."

"Perhaps." Chxixsas mused, "But he is not targeting you, personally, as he did The Clown. From what I have seen they intend to act against _any_ power or religion demanding sentient sacrifice, including human cults."

"One thing is certain, Torren-Wraeth is no longer among my priests." Chxixsas almost noted a trace of sadness in Great Cthulhu's mental voice. "In fact, I don't believe he ever was."

To be continued . . .

Torren-Wraeth has had an alignment shift, he is now _Chaotic_ _Good_ instead of _Chaotic Neutral_.


	39. Chapter 39

The Great Arising

Chapter 39

It was priceless. The last copy of an ancient pamphlet so rare that most scholars had never heard of it, much less seen it. _On The Sending Out of The Soul_. Printed in 1873, in Salem, Massachusetts. It was absolutely priceless.

It was also one of the most deadly works ever penned by mortal hands.

_On The Sending Out Of The Soul_ was a trap. The first six pages where simple instructions on meditation and astral projection. The seventh page led the reader straight into the realm of The Outer God Hydra. When they returned from their jaunt across the astral planes, Hydra would follow them, taking the living heads of all those who crossed paths with the traveler and adding them to its own horrific mass. An endless sea of grey dotted with the tormented heads of beings from throughout the universe.

Torren-Wraeth tossed the yellowed manuscript into the fire, and they watched it burn.

"What's next?"

"_Malleus Maleficarum_."

"_The Hammer of The Witches_? I didn't think there were any copies left."

"There is at least one, but it's hard to get at. It's in the old Vatican library."

_Malleus Maleficarum_. A book of superstitious nonsense that had been called the most evil book ever written. The witch hunter's guide. The blood-soaked guidebook for the witch hunts that led to the horrible deaths of hundreds of thousands of people. Including his half-brother Ked's mother. Ked might not appreciate his cause, but he would not mourn the passing of that wretched tome into oblivion.

The Vatican had managed to hold on for a while after R'lyeh arose, until the Neo-Crusades. Religion was tolerated in this new world, rebellion was not. The libraries and vaults had been looted long ago, by both human and non-human agencies, but some items remained in the ruins. Fortunately, it appeared that no one had found a copy of _Malleus Maleficarum_, as it had not appeared in any form in centuries.

There was a great deal of human superstition and fear toward that which was different, quite natural due to the Earth being invaded by extradimensional 'gods'. The last thing humanity needed was some kind of witch scare galvanizing them against each other. Not that some witches weren't dangerous. They were all too aware of the likes of Keziah Mason, who sacrificed hundreds of children to Nyarlathotep. That foul witch exemplified the evil that they were fighting, murderous, merciless and power-hungry, with no redeeming qualities. One of the main goals of their movement was to keep dangerous books and artifacts out of the hands of magic users like Mason who would abuse the power they contained.

Elsewhere,

Simon, High Priest of The First Church of Starry Wisdom (Reformed) awoke with a start. Something was in his house. He could feel it through the magical Wards he had set about his home. But the Wards hadn't prevented it from breaking in. He couldn't get the lights to come on. He whispered an illumination spell, and a small ball of blue light began to hover in the air a few inches above his head. The bedroom was empty. It wasn't in the bedroom anymore. It was in the study . . .

It was after the Trapezohedron.

The Shining Trapezohedron, holy symbol of his faith and the icon by which the avatar of his god was summoned to accept sacrifices. Without The Haunter of The Dark, the church would fall apart.

He saw only a room filled with books, candles and mystical artifacts. Whatever it was that had invaded his home, it was invisible. He had to be cautious. He remembered what had happened to Abdul Alhazred on the streets of Damascus. He picked up a small bag and began to spread a dusty powder on the floor.

The Whispering Beast watched the sorcerer carefully. He had blocked off the door to his bedroom with the powder. He didn't know what kind of powder it was, but all magic was potentially dangerous. However, it didn't matter if it only blocked the doorway. He could exit via any shadow.

The box was gone. No, it was still in the room, whatever was in the room with him was hiding it. He could sense its presence, a kind of lurking fear. A sense of terror personified that would have sent an ordinary man fleeing for his life.

But he served an avatar of Nyarlathotep himself. He did not frighten easily. The creature was strong, but nowhere near the level of some of the beings he'd _Summoned_ and _Bound_ in the past. He flung the dust across the room, and it became visible.

It was massive. A huge, red-brown, man-shaped figure with a large head was cradling the box in his gangly limbs. He snarled at him, displaying wicked teeth.

Suddenly it struck him. It looked like . . . It couldn't be . . .

"Bloody Bones?" The name struck at his heart, childhood fears returned in an onrushing tide.

The creature laughed wildly, "That's right. Remember me, bed-wetter?" He hadn't been involved with humans in centuries, but he wasn't above using his people's reputation to his personal benefit. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I have to see a Nuckelavee about a horse . . ."

Of course, being a Bogeyman was not necessarily helpful when the person you are trying to intimidate was a powerful sorcerer who dealt with Nyarlathotep. He ducked seconds before a blast of energy disintegrated half of a bookshelf and the wall behind. The Trapezohedron might be indestructible, but he wasn't. It was time to leave.

Simon began an incantation, trying to _Bind_ the beast. There were no spells for _Binding_ a Bogeyman, but he assumed that they were close enough relatives of Dimensional Shamblers that spells used against them might affect their more infamous cousins. Before he could finish a gaping hole in the air itself opened behind the creature, and a long, shadowy hand pulled him, and the box, into the blackness. Simon screamed in rage as the Portal sealed itself behind him.

The Trapezohedron was lost to him.

Chxixsas took the box from his servant's hands. It was open, the Trapezohedron shining darkly in the unnatural light. "Well done, my friend."

The Whispering Beast gave a low bow, then began dusting off the powder with his clawed hands. It had not been hard to find a shadow creature who was dissatisfied with a life of frightening children, nor to convince him to join with his son and great-nephews in their gentle rebellion. But he had to be sure that they did not destroy artifacts or texts which would be of personal use to himself. Both Tek and Torren-Wraeth had an understandable distaste for artifacts pertaining to Nyarlathotep, and, though they could not destroy the Trapezohedron, it was best to simply take it before they could conceal it. He sat the box on a small stand, with light, one of the few lights within The Shadow Library, engulfing it. The darkness would free what dwelled within, and he had no desire to allow it purchase in his library.

Absurd and venomous fiction such as the _Malleus Maleficarum_ were useless to him, but _On The Sending Out Of The Soul_ was an interesting piece of arcana. Fortunately, he had a copy within The Shadow Library, which the children knew nothing about. He had much they knew nothing of, but these items were for his personal use only, he had no intention of sharing them with lesser races who could not wield them safely or properly. The children were well-intentioned, but naive. You cannot eliminate beliefs and practices by burning books and smashing altars. It was not the 'forbidden' knowledge itself that caused madness, wickedness and death, but the application of that knowledge, and as long as beings sought power over one another, they would seek out such knowledge.

And beings like Nyarlathotep would grant it freely, for the amusement of watching mortals destroy themselves by misusing it.

To be continued . . .

Notes:

_On The Sending Out Of The Soul_ and _Hydra_ were created by Henry Kuttner.

Abdul Alhazred, author of the _Necronomicon_, was eaten alive by an invisible 'demon' in broad daylight in a crowded street in Damascus.


	40. Chapter 40

The Great Arising

Chapter 40

_The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend . . ._

Rome -

They had not expected a warm welcome. How could they, when Torren-Wraeth's father was responsible for the destruction of the site they considered the center of their faith, 'The Holy City'?

Rome was 'one of those places' that stirred up great emotion and controversy. Like Jerusalem, it held tremendous religious significance for many humans, and they had no desire to allow extra-dimensional 'demons' to defile it. After The Neo-Crusades, Cthulhu had attempted to build a grand palace here, but the fanatical resistance was so fierce that he drew back and abandoned it. However, whenever the humans attempted to rebuild, Cthulhu's minions would raze it again. He wanted no major powers, political or religious, that could oppose him.

However, one does not defeat an idea so easily. While they could not build great cathedrals, small shrines veritably covered the city. This was a war Cthulhu would likely lose.

It was no wonder, then, that Torren-Wraeth and Eikichi were met with gunfire. It had no affect whatsoever, of course, beyond establishing that they were not welcome here. They pulled back to a discreet distance and landed atop a small building.

"That went well . . ."

"They can't hurt us." Eikichi observed, "But they can utterly disrupt our search with their attacks."

"If we can't reason with them, we'll just have to leave for the time being. . ."

The building shuddered under the impact of a mortar shell.

"_Mortars_? Is that really necessary?" Torren-Wraeth asked the wind. "Perhaps we should have sent word ahead of us . . ."

"Would you like to play with Teddy?" A sweet voice asked, and both boys spun around to see a small girl. She was about seven years of age with honey-blonde hair and wearing a blue and white dress. In her arms was a ragged brown teddy bear. There was something not right in her blue-green eyes. Something _evil_.

"This is a _really_ bad time . . ." Eikichi began.

She smiled, her cherubic face taking on a hideous light. Her voice was thick with malicious intent, "Teddy wants to play with you!" She threw the doll to the ground, and it began to growl.

Never a good sign, that.

The teddy bear grew and writhed and twisted into an eight and a half-foot tall monstrous parody of a stuffed animal. It lunged as more mortars shook the building and both boys took to the air. The enraged bear-thing gouged deep slashes in the stone roof before following its prey into the air, floating like some perverse balloon, roaring and clawing at them as the girl laughed wickedly. Torren-Wraeth didn't waste time, he blasted the beast with a _Disintegration_ spell.

"Yeah, well _Elmo hates you_!" He shouted.

The girl howled in fury as 'Teddy' turned to dust. "We _will_ come for you, again." Her voice was now a scratchy bass, and she leered at them through massive, rotten teeth, "_IA!NYARLATHOTEP_!"

She vanished in a literal flash as the two harried boys teleported away.

The forlorn building collapsed in a shower of plaster and dust.

Carcosa

Hastur's vast bulk slithered bonelessly through the black waters of the Lake of Hali. This children's crusade could be turned to his benefit. He had no special love or hatred for humanity, but allying with them would be an effective gambit against his hated half-brother, Cthulhu. He had allied with humanity before, using such notables as Laban Shrewsbury as agents in the sibling's endless war, seeking some leverage to pry that bloated monstrosity from his throne. His worshipers were few, but devout, willing to give their lives for their master.

With a mere thought he contacted his various servants with a simple message; Aid the Resistance. Aid Tektaktequataqaurl and Torren-Wraeth on their quest, and undermine Cthulhu wherever possible.

_Torren-Wraeth_.

The idea of allying himself with the son of Cthulhu to fight Cthulhu's faithful was glorious . And they _would_ be fighting Cthulhu, how could they not, when so many of his followers practiced sentient sacrifice? Only the most deranged of Hastur's followers sacrificed sentients in his name, and without his bidding, but Cthulhu demanded such offerings. In a way, he would be robbing Cthulhu of both his sacrifices and his son.

There were no words to describe the pleasure that brought him.

"My father will help us." Tek leaned back in his chair, "But I'm sure that his motivations are not entirely in line with our own."

"If we ally ourselves with Hastur . . ." Eikichi warned, "Your father might never forgive you."

Torren-Wraeth cast his eyes to the ground. It was a difficult thing, accepting help from his father's hated enemy. What made it all the worse was the fact that in all likelihood he would be fighting against his father at his uncle's side. He still loved his father. And what would this mean for his _mother_? Was this all for The Greater Good? What would The Elder Gods think if allied with one of their enemies?

He had known that there would be repercussions. He had chosen to fight the sacrificial murders of sentient beings, despite the fact that his father accepted, sometimes demanded such offerings. Now Hastur was using his sacrifice to get at his father. But he did not know if he could afford to decline such a powerful alliance.

Especially if Nyarlathotep had thrown its thousand masks into the ring. The little girl hadn't been Nyarlathotep or one of its avatars, but some extremely powerful servitor creature, perhaps one of The Million-Favoured Ones. Whatever she was, he had the terrible feeling that they would see her again.

"_No man can serve two masters_. How close can I become to a Great Old One without offending The Elder Gods?"

Eikichi pondered this. To continue under the blessing of The Elder Gods, they had to walk a fine line. They had to ally themselves to a certain extent with their enemies for aid and protection, and they had taken refuge under the wings, so to speak, of Shub-Niggurath. Being surrounded by, and dwelling within, The Dark Mother's territory, they had to work with Her. Of course, She was apparently an ally of mankind as well. How far could they go before crossing the line? There was but one logical choice.

"We ask them."

To be continued . . .


	41. Chapter 41

The Great Arising

41

_Rodrigo - "I fear neither your Inquisition nor your flames, for I shall rise from the ashes reborn through the womb of The Black Goat! Ia! Shub-Niggurath, Ram With a Thousand Ewes!"_

Benevento Chieti Bordighera

_Massa di Requiem per Shuggay_

The ground erupted in a shower of dirt and grass and a great chasm appeared in the earth. From the depths of this vent came a horrible stench, like the odor of thousands of rutting beasts blended with the overpowering scent of rotting flowers. Torren-Wraeth gagged as a stream of reddish-purple mist emerged from that tear in the earth. The mist swirled and coalesced and became a semi-solid, amorphous cloud sprouting and absorbing random maws, tentacles, hoofed and pawed limbs, breasts and less-discernible features.

This was Shub-Niggurath.

She was in avatar form, of course, none of them, not even Tek, could withstand the sight of The Outer Goddess in Her true, incomprehensible form.

The pheromones and scents forced things into Torren-Wraeth's mind that he'd rather ignore. It was hard to believe that this creature was his own and Tek's great-grandmother, was Eikichi's grandmother. Intellectually, he understood that Shub-Niggurath was, by Her very nature a thing of raw, boundless procreation. Still, Her influence and presence sickened him.

Shub-Niggurath, like nature itself, was a fickle, unpredictable being. She was well-disposed toward men, when it pleased Her. She might aid and protect them, or grow wrathful over some small transgression and strike them down without mercy.

"IA! Shub-Niggurath!" They shouted in unison. It was best to try to placate such a being immediately, as they didn't like to be pulled away from their own interests to deal with mortal affairs. And, of course, one did not call upon such beings without an offering. A full dozen cows had been offered to The Dark Mother, and She consumed them in a horrific fashion with Her many maws.

"We seek the protection of The Dark Mother!" Torren-Wraeth shouted in Cthuli, though there was probably no need to shout, "We seek sanctuary within the forests of The Black Goat!"

"Our enemies are many." Eikichi said respectfully, "We dwell within your lands, with your sufferance, of course. But our enemies would seek us out here. We ask for your help."

To commune with an Outer God is a far, far different thing than speaking with a Great Old One, Her mind was utterly alien, from what Eikichi could gather, Her sole purpose was propagation. She existed to birth new and often terrible things upon the universe. Did She, could She even understand?

She managed to convey a sense of displeasure without words. Their amity with The Elder Gods was not exactly a strike in their favor in the eyes of The Outer Gods. The fact that they were asking an Outer Goddess for aid while serving as agents of The Elder Gods did not strike them as particularly disloyal, as The Elder Gods had shown a great capacity for deceit and double-dealing themselves. And they had not forbidden it . . .

Finally Her amorphous body swirled and twisted to reveal a massive human face that smiled down upon them in an unmistakable display of favor. The avatar slowly slid back into the earth in much the same way as She had emerged, though the foul stench lingered despite a fierce Eastern wind.

To be continued . . .


	42. Chapter 42

The Great Arising

Chapter 42

_The most hideous of evils are often hidden behind the most innocent of eyes._

Yoshida Kaien

_Kidoumaru_

A great, unblinking red eye emerged from the mass of writhing black tentacles and regarded the Child-Thing warily. Nihilistic as he was, Cyaegha nonetheless found this tiny being unnerving.

". . . And they'll steal your sacrifices. I've already warned Gla'aki and Chaugnar Faughn."

"And what do you expect me to do about it?"

The little girl smiled sweetly, clutching her teddy bear, "Why, fight them, of course."

"I fight for my own reasons, not your whims, and not your master's." There was a hint of anger in the being's psychic voice.

"Please, spare me the pathetic pretense of dignity, Cyaegha." The little girl's sweet voice was laced with malice, "And don't insult my intelligence by implying that you actually possess _honor_. My 'master' could crush you into paste."

A black tentacle lashed out and struck at the Child-Thing, but she merely appeared a few feet away. "That wasn't very nice." She chided.

"To Hell with you!" The Eye roared.

She grinned innocently, revealing hideous fangs, "Where do you think I came from?"

The forest,

It was tall, asymmetrical, even baroque, in a fashion. One arm and an uneven portion of the 'face' were bone white, the rest of the body a purplish-black. It had but one eye, with a yellow tear design, gracing the dark portion of the head, and a yellow heart-shape, pierced by thick black rods, stood out against the body, leaking rivulets of yellow ichor. The legs bent oddly, with wing-like structures growing from shin to knee. It's white hand, replete with black claws, stretched out toward Eikichi, its mouth stretched in a hideous rictus smile,

"It's good to see a _familiar_ face." The Joker said.

Eikichi switched off the motorbike. Obviously, The Joker knew that he was not the _real_ Mishina Eikichi, after all, they had fought over six hundred years ago. "What do you want?"

The Joker through its hands in the air, "What I want is to destroy humanity. But you, of course, are referring to my short-term goals. At the moment, I want to amuse myself by remembering an old . . . _Friend_."

When Nyarlathotep sought to 'amuse' itself, woe upon anyone within its reach!

Eikichi had already sent out a mental distress signal, and Torren-Wraeth and Tek arrived within mere seconds.

"Torren-Wraeth. Tektaktequataquarl. I was hoping you would come." It cocked its head oddly and smiled, "Oh, and I wanted to return this." The Joker pulled an unconscious Jimmy Bonecrusher from the forest behind it and threw him roughly at the boys' feet, "It seems he had a slight . . . _Accident_."

Torren-Wraeth growled and lept upon the avatar, only to be pushed back by a simple hand gesture. Eikichi looked over Jimmy, he was unhurt, just a bit bruised. "Don't worry, I didn't break him, this time."

Tek landed a punch that sent it flying through the forest, taking down several trees as it went. Vines tried to ensnare The Joker, limbs beat at it, only to wither and die at its touch.

"Are _you_ attacking me as well, Goat?" It asked in amusement, "All this fuss can't just be about that little ghoul . . ." Torren-Wraeth struck as The Joker beat at the forest that was striking out of him. He kicked The Joker in the chest, where the thick rods pierced the yellow heart. Yellow ichor exploded as the rods were forced fully through the demon's chest and out its back. Joker screamed in agony, clutching at its chest, falling to its knees before vanishing into a vortex of glimmering darkness.

Torren-Wraeth landed painfully on one foot, then tumbled to the forest floor. Those rods had cut deeply into his left foot, and it would take a while before he healed enough to walk. He sat up as Tek rushed to his side. Eikichi remained with Jimmy, but looked worriedly towards his friend.

"I'll be alright." He insisted, rubbing his bleeding foot. The blue blood turned green where it mingled with the yellow ichor. He hoped that none of The Joker's bile had entered his wounds, he hated to think what infections he might acquire. "But, one thing's for sure, I'm not _walking_ home tonight."

Jimmy awoke to find a state of confusion. Eikichi was leaning over him, and Torren-Wraeth sat cross-legged nearby, covered in thick yellow goo. Both held expressions of concern, and he turned his head at the sound of thrashing in the underbrush to Tek searching for something, rage evident on his golden face.

"What happened? I remember seeing something black and white, then, nothing."

Eikichi helped him up, "_That_ was a mobile dung-heap."

"What - ?"

"Trust me," Torren-Wraeth began rubbing leaves over his body to remove the yellow goo, "You don't want to know."

"We should get back to the base. I'm afraid he wrecked your bike, Jimmy, but we can repair it." Eikichi said, _We're lucky he didn't wreck you . . ._

Back at the base,

Eikichi wrapped a bandage around Torren-Wraeth's injured foot. The wound was deep and ugly, but Spawn were resilient, even Half-Spawn. Still, the nature of the weapons that caused the injury concerned him. Mary had made a poultice, but more preternatural means might be necessary at even the first sign of something wrong.

Karen watched with an odd fascination. She hadn't thought, she honestly hadn't thought, that such creatures could suffer injury. Deep Ones and the like were mortal, and ghouls were merely an offshoot of humanity itself. She briefly wondered why this 'Joker' would have giant spines sticking out of his heart, but such creatures often had motives and forms that simply defied logic.

At least that thing hadn't hurt Jimmy.

No one believed it to be truly dead, things like that don't simply 'die'. It might be too dangerous to continue using the bikes for travel, the beasts of The Dark Mother might not bother a ghoul, but things of Nyarlathotep . . . The mere thought of The Crawling Chaos made her skin crawl. He had many names, many faces. She assumed that _Satan_ was among them.

Or, perhaps, _Legion_.

To be continued . . .


	43. Chapter 43

The Great Arising

Chapter 43

Nine stone menhirs had stood silently upon the bleak Scottish moor in a perfect triangle. Large, vaguely octopoidal shapes floated about, issuing strange gibbering sounds not meant for mortal ears

They were The Spawn of Hastur, and they had come to bring their father to earth.

Tek had found that, though his father had ordered cooperation with the small Resistance Torren-Wraeth, he and Eikichi had formed, his siblings were still wary of their 'mad' brother who openly served The Elder Gods. Bringing their father bodily to earth would allay some of their scorn and elicit more aid for the cause.

Unfortunately, this was no easy task. He was still tied strongly to Aldebaran and Carcosa, and it would take much more to call Hastur to earth_ permanently_.

Of course, Torren-Wraeth had not, could not, come. Though he had no malice toward his uncle, he recognized that his presence would be an affront to his father, the ultimate insult against The Lord of R'lyeh, and he was still human enough to love his father.

As the ritual reached its peak the winds began to howl with the unfathomable cold that can only be felt in void between the stars and the fog blanketing the moor turned to ice and was swept away before it could fall to the ground. The stone triangle began to glow bright yellow as it aligned with Aldebaran in astronomical perfection. The _Gate_ to Carcosa began to open.

Then it all went to Hell.

A hideous bellow of rage and oily, guttural curses tore through the freezing winds as a bloated, green-skinned monstrosity of incredible size swept down upon thunderous bat wings. His red eyes glared with unbridled rage, his facial tendrils curled, twitched and flailed in alien wrath. Great Cthulhu shattered six of the menhirs with a single swipe of a blubbery paw, breaking the mystical bond to Carcosa. The wind and light immediately vanished, though a howl of unspeakable rage was heard as the _Gate_ closed. The Spawn fled, knowing they held no power, even in numbers, to face the full fury of Cthulhu.

Tek stood his ground, assuming humanoid form, albeit a gigantic humanoid form. Cthulhu crushed the remaining monoliths beneath his feet and turned to the rogue Spawn of his most hated enemy. "Hastur will not tread upon this world as long as I live, and I shall live forever!"

Tek was shaking with a mixture of fear and rage, "Don't be so sure. There are powers that can crush you as easily as you have crushed these stones." Cthulhu drew back to strike the impudent creature, but restrained himself. The Elder Gods hung over his head like a hangman's noose, and Yog-Sothoth had still not answered his prayers through signs or omens.

Still, he would be damned before he allowed Hastur free reign upon _his_ world.

"The Elder Gods hate Hastur even as they hate me. Did you really believe that they would allow him purchase upon this world?"

Other bloated figures descended upon the site, and Tek saw Ked among them. They began weaving spells to desecrate the land for Hastur and consecrate it for Cthulhu.

It was clearly time to leave.

Tek opened a _Gate_ and stepped through, back into the forest that served as their base. Bitter cold followed his passing, wilting and freezing greenery too close to the gate. Ked moved to pursue him but Cthulhu held him back.

"At least Torren-Wraeth still has some measure of respect for me," There was a hint of sadness in Cthulhu's voice, "He could not bring himself to aid Hastur . . ."

Ked seethed with ill-concealed rage, his father still cared for that pathetic, human-loving traitor! He turned and stormed off in disgust.

Great Cthulhu watched his son go, and felt a sharp pain within himself. As much as he loved his hybrid children, he knew that he could never truly _understand_ them.

"Hey . . . Over here . . ." Ked heard a child's voice ring out from the thick mist, and turned to see a little girl in a blue and white dress. She was holding a teddy bear by the arm, "If you really want revenge on Torren-Wraeth," She smiled sweetly, "We can help. . ."

To be continued . . .


	44. Chapter 44

The Great Arising

44

"A demonic little girl with a living teddy bear . . ." The blackness that was Chxixsas' body shifted within his voluminous crimson robes, "Such a creature has been crusading against you. It is stirring up The Great Old Ones with lies and half-truths. It is confident enough even to threaten the likes of Cyaegha ." His pale blue eyes conveyed an honest sense of concern, even if his rigid, mask-like visage could not.

"Do you know who she is?" Torren-Wraeth asked. He was hovering a few inches off the ground, his foot still hurt from his battle with The Joker. Chxixsas had healed the actual physical damage, but flight was still more comfortable than walking. Eikichi stood nearby, with Dodomeki hovering, as always, at his side.

"No. Like The Slender Man and the contents of The Tablets of Ubbo-Sathla, the answers still elude me. There is much that is hidden, even from me. I have tried to _Summon_ Yibb-Tstll, whose wisdom rivals that of Yog-Sothoth, and _failed_."

Eikichi arched a thin blue eyebrow. How could such simple spells 'fail' a Great Old One?

"Something is happening. Cthulhu cannot _Contact_ Yog-Sothoth, and my attempts to _Commune_ with Yibb-Tstll fail as well. Something is fouling our 'magic'. Yet you _Summoned_ Shub-Niggurath, and Hastur's Spawn nearly succeeded in bringing their sire to earth. It makes no sense . . ."

"_Nearly_, father." Eikichi added, "They were stopped and Hastur remains in Carcosa. Perhaps that was The Elder Gods, tricking Cthulhu into doing their will."

Chxixsas brought a ebony claw to his porcelain white face, "That is a strong possibility. Though why they would prevent me speaking to Yibb-Tstll on your behalf escapes me."

"That may be the work of a third party. The Little Girl may be behind it somehow." Torren-Wraeth shook his head, "Or she may just be a pawn for something even more powerful, something that opposes both Elder _and_ Outer Gods. Who knows the fullness of The Spaces Between? There are beings, entire realities of which we are wholly ignorant. A Hound of Tindalos or Dimensional Shambler might have so-" Torren-Wraeth jerked his head violently, his yellow eyes widening in horror. His mouth fell open, and the tendrils on his jaw began to writhe. "Ked's attacking New Yokohama!"

To be continued . . .


	45. Chapter 45

The Great Arising

Chapter 45

New Yokohama

A large, brown-furred monstrosity swiped the roof from a shop with a single paw. Ked, his great bat-wings flapping high above the chaos, watched the fires he and The Girl had started with satisfaction, occasionally sending a magical bolt to strike at firefighters desperately rushing toward the blaze.

He wanted his half-brother's cherished city burned to cinders.

His earliest, and darkest memories, were of fire. Ked hated fire, and the humans who wielded it. But he could use it against them, to punish them with their own weapon. It was a meager satisfaction, those he wanted to burn had died well over a thousand years before, by his tiny claws and piercing fangs. They had hated him from the day he had been born, burned his mother, and tried to burn him. Even as an infant, he was vastly superior to those wretched creatures.

Still, it troubled him.

It was unheard of, to attack a 'blessed' community, doing this was likely to draw his father's ire, but Great Cthulhu had been too soft to punish his treacherous son. Someone had to preserve his father's name by opposing his enemies. No one could be allowed to challenge Great Cthulhu with impunity. His new ally seemed confident enough, and he could not deny her power

A loud cry of rage thundered in his ears, and he smiled even as Torren-Wraeth rushed toward him, his handsome features twisted in rage. He had to give the boy credit, he had warrior's blood in his veins.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" He shrieked.

"Repaid you, dear brother, for betraying our father." He smiled broadly, "Did you honestly think there would be no repercussions? Now you have a choice, fight me, or try to save your precious pets' lives."

Eikichi, sticking to the ground, began casting spells to protect the panicked humans. He needed to calm the people, stop the fires and 'hold the fort' should Torren-Wraeth be forced to deal with Ked. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, a little girl in a blue dress, and recognized that this had just become far more dangerous . . .

The smoke and dust and scent of charred flesh burned in his nostrils, the heat lapped at the air about him and the screams asailed his ears. He had no choice. Torren-Wraeth rushed toward the burning city, only to be cut off by Ked, "No, I think we should fight!" Ked grabbed him by his wounded foot and flung him painfully to the struck at the youth with _Fist of Yog-Sothoth, _effectively grinding him into the dust of the unpaved street.

The sky turned dark and rain began to fall in heavy curtains upon the city, beating back the flames.

"I'll kill you!" Torren-Wraeth screamed. He darted up as quickly as he had fallen and struck Ked with superhuman force right in his genitals. Before he could even howl out in agony he nimbly struck at his lower back, relishing the sound of breaking bone as Ked fell screaming and clutching at his injury. He crashed heavily and lay in moaning heap as Torren-Wraeth fell upon him. Amber eyes blinded by rage, he mercilessly struck at his half-brother, oblivious to his own injuries.

The fires began to die down, but Eikichi knew it was far from over.

A loud, bestial roar alerted him to an unfortunately familiar presence.

_Teddy_.

Teddy's massive bulk was obscured by a sea of red. The creature stopped in its tracks as the tall, ink-colored form of Chxixsas appeared before him, pale blue eyes burning more fiercly than the fires of the sun. A black hand with long, sharp talons slashed down, shredding the beast to pieces. Chxixsas turned his porcelain head to glare at The Girl.

"You're gonna' regret that." She growled in an sinister bass.

"And you will regret threatening my son."

Chxixsas simply raised his hand and cast _Unmask Demon. _The Girl shrieked as her body began to warp and change, the childish disguise sloughed away to reveal an unspeakable mass of writhing, seething flesh. External organs throbbed with hideous life amidst grasping hands and massive claws. Smaller, vaguely wormlike creatures slithered about upon that rancid flesh, eyelessly glaring with unimaginable malice at The Shadow Sage.

"So, you have seen us as we are. No matter! It will not help you!" It rasped even as it vanished into The Spaces Between.

That long ebon hand reached down and pulled Torren-Wraeth from his fallen opponent, "It is enough!" Ked lay bleeding in the street, a mass of bruises and broken bones. Chxixsas gingerly picked up the fallen Half-Spawn. Great Cthulhu would be most displeased with both his children for this episode of violent madness.

Elsewhere -

"Such a spectacular failure you are."

The Child-Thing shrank back, "We did not anticipate Chxixsas' intervention."

"Even without him, your champion was easily defeated. I had hoped you would find more competent allies. And now Chxixsas, and through him Cthulhu, will be hunting you."

"We do not fear Chxixsas. And you are far more powerful than Cthulhu."

"You are assuming that I will protect you. It is unwise to make such assumptions."

The Child-Thing shuddered.

To be continued . . .


	46. Chapter 46

The Great Arising

Chapter 46

_To attack a 'Blessed' community is more than just an act of violence, it is a personal insult to the divine protector of that community. It is the spark of war._

_Kidoumaru_

Yoshida Kaien

A greenish-black haze hung over the throne room, reflecting perfectly the mood of its occupants. Chxixsas was finishing his report on the events that had transpired in New Yokohama, and Great Cthulhu was clearly displeased by his children's unseemly antics.

"It was a 'they', a gestalt creature." Chxixsas explained, "They vaguely resembled M'Nagalah, but were not of any of its known spawn. The Cancer God denies any knowledge of these accursed creatures, and M'Nagalah is an honest being."

Cthulhu's shining red eyes took in his battered children, then narrowed in rage, "Whatever it is, I want it found and punished." He sent out a telepathic command to all of his followers and allies,_ Find and capture The Child-Thing_. He wanted to know who sent it before sending it/them to Oblivion.

Torren-Wraeth and Ked stood uncomfortably side-by-side, casting accusing glances at one another. Eikichi stood beside his father, he was not truly implicated in this fiasco.

Great Cthulhu was both outraged and disturbed. An intentional attack on a Blessed community. His children inflicting serious wounds upon one another at the behest of some unknown force.

What did they want? And, more importantly, were there others?

Torren-Wraeth had not stood in his father's throne room, or even entered R'Lyeh, for well over a year. He was even angrier than his father. Ked had attacked_ his_ city. He should be with Tek and the others helping the survivors instead of having to explain himself for Ked's actions. Ked, for his part, was sullen and silent. Why this waste of time? What did Great Cthulhu care if humans died?

"An attack upon a Blessed community is an attack upon the god who protects it, Ked." Cthulhu's thunderous, gurgling voice was even, but with a hint of anger, "Torren-Wraeth is my son, even as you -" Ked moved to object, but a stern look kept him silent, "And I have many followers in New Yokohama. You may have intended to honor me, but you have diminished me in the eyes of my enemies. If I cannot protect a Blessed community . . ." His bubbling voice trailed off.

Ked hung his head. He had desired to punish Torren-Wraeth for opposing his father's sacrifices. Neither youth had possessed a real desire to harm or kill the other, Ked merely wanted to humble him, humiliate him. Instead he had disgraced his father almost as badly as his wayward brother.

"While I admire your loyalty, I must question your wisdom. I know that you were goaded by that fiendish Child-Thing, but you should have known better." A titanic talon scratched at jagged teeth the size of buildings, "If I decide that Torren-Wraeth is acting against my interests, _I_ will punish him, I alone."

Torren-Wraeth, for his part, just wanted to get back to New Yokohama and help. His blind anger had simmered to a cool rage, and helping his people was more important than revenge, at least for now. He had always felt some pity for Ked.

Not anymore.

He wondered if he could ever forgive his brother for this cowardly and murderous act. Though it shamed him to admit it, now all he wanted from Ked was vengeance.

"And you, Torren-Wraeth . . ." The Lord of R'Lyeh was at a loss, the boy had always been an enigma to him, and now that he was openly fighting against many of the very cults that venerated him . . . "You must be prepared for these things, if you continue on your course of action. I cannot protect you from others as I can from Ked. Beware the wrath you draw upon yourself, for you may well have to face it alone."

Chxixsas looked down at them wth pale blue eyes, "Hatred breeds violence, violence breeds hatred. If you allow either to fester within you, they will consume you. Let this end here."

Eikichi gently touched his friend's shoulder, "We need to stop by our house, first. I have a feeling something is waiting there for us."

It was lying upon their table, a long wooden staff covered in potent runes and symbols, topped by a silver blade almost a foot long. Both boys recognized the artifact immediately.

_The Spear of Nodens._

As Torren-Wraeth lifted the hefty weapon, it's form changed, blurred, molding itself to his slender hands.

Now he had a weapon, and when that creature returned, he would be ready.

To be continued . . .


	47. Chapter 47

The Great Arising

Chapter 47

"_The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the Unknown_."

Howard Phillips Lovecraft

New Yokohama

The people of New Yokohama went about their work with sombre diligence. Soon all physical traces of the attack would be gone, though the memories would certainly remain for a long time to come. This incident had reminded them that, as all humans, all mortals, they were at the mercy of petulant god-children. Even a 'Blessed' community could be attacked. As if to fully display the unpredictable nature of this world, other non-human creatures stood side-by-side with the humans, rebuilding their homes and shops. Fortunately, the death toll had been light.

Unfortunately, there _was_ a death toll.

Torren-Wraeth's black-nailed thumb gently pushed the the last nail into the wooden facade of the shop. After breaking his first hammer, he'd decided to use his bare hands in the reconstruction work. He wore The Spear of Nodens strapped to his back, ready for combat in the event The Child-Thing reappered. He sincerely hoped that he would get the chance to use it. "You realize," He called out to Eikichi, "That we have been so busy fending off attacks that we haven't been able to accomplish anything we set out to do?"

Eikichi, who was helping lay tile on a nearby roof, shrugged, "We do what we have to. We've made some progress, though. We've united a lot of beings in our cause. That counts for something. And," he added, "We have saved _some_ lives. . ."

Torren-Wraeth sighed. He knew he needed to have patience, but it was difficult. Self-control did not come easily to him, he preferred direct action to sitting around strategizing. His impetuousness was a weakness, and he could not afford to be weak, not now. Not with so much at stake.

And then there was the Child-Thing.

He tried not to think about it, but it nagged at him. Even Chxixsas, among the wisest of The Great Old Ones, did not recognize what he now realized to be his mortal enemy.

And she/it/they had told him she had a _master_.

The Jungles of Kled,

The Dreamlands

Chxixsas gazed at Yibb-Tstll. She was about twice human size and heavily cloaked. Her body was covered in pendulous breasts, upon which faceless nightgaunts jockeyed for position to suckled her black milk. Her body slowly rotated upon its axis like a grisly item in a display case. Her face was viscous, her eyes floating about randomly like chunks of meat in a gruesome stew. Her voice was a thick and deep bass, "This 'Child-Thing" a servant of Nyarlathotep, but her true master is from beyond Azathoth."

Chxixsas cocked his head in surprise, "From beyond Azathoth?" Azathoth sat at the center of all Creation, the blind, mindless nucleus of all reality, if there was such a thing as 'reality'. To exist outside of all known planes, all known universes, was almost incomprehensible. "There are things _beyond_ Azathoth?"

"Yes, many things."

"What is it? What does it want?"

"That has been hidden even from me. Even I do not know all the secrets of existence." She paused, "But I do know that it is allied with Nyarlathotep, yet even The Crawling Chaos does not truly know what it is dealing with."

_That_ was not comforting.

"It was blocking our spells . . ."

"No more, for once the Outer and Elder Gods have agreed upon one thing, this entity must not be allowed to gain foothold in our multiverse." A strange expression came across the Elder Goddess' floating eyes, "If Nyarlathotep does not break his covenant with this enemy . . . Too bad for him."

To be continued . . .


	48. Chapter 48

The Great Arising

Chapter 48

The dark ruin was lit by hundreds of candles that burned an eerie, cold shade of blue, washing the grime-covered walls and assembled figures in a pale cerulean glow. A large pentacle was traced in a white, dusty substance on the uneven floor, a make-shift alter. There were ten figures standing in a semi-circle around the pentacle, and one standing within it, chanting the praises of Nyogtha in a high, grating voice. The ten other figures were kids, children and teenagers, kidnapped and drugged for use in this ceremony.

Food for the all-consuming god.

_The Thing That Should Not Be_ heard his voice and responded.

The chill air before the priest tore asunder, opening into infinite blackness, the thick smell of ozone and the sound of slopping, wet, rubbery flesh enveloped the old building like a sodden death shroud.

The priest smiled in triumph and turned to beckon the first child to his god.

His eyes widened and he gave an audible cry. This was not supposed to happen!

Standing before him was a green-skinned youth with writhing facial tendrils and a look of unbridled rage in his yellow eyes.

Torren-Wraeth punched him in the face.

Reeling, the priest fell back in pain and surprise.

"Prepare to meet your god." Torren-Wraeth's wrathful voice boomed through the chill chamber.

A horrific roar of ravenous hunger emerged from the sacrificial gate as the young hybrid picked up the priest like a rag doll and threw him headlong through the portal into the waiting bosom of his god. Eikichi quickly blasted away the bone dust, breaking the spell and closing the rift.

Torren-Wraeth was shivering with rage. He turned to see Karen, Kevin, Jimmy and other members of The Resistance gently taking the docile kids away from the sacrificial chamber. He shook his head, but sighed with relief. They'd won, they'd actually _won_. They'd found the kidnapped children and saved them. They'd defeated the sorcerer behind the crime.

They had saved ten innocent lives.

Eikichi smiled, "Well, do you still think we aren't accomplishing anything?"

"I'm surprised," He replied, "That there was only one person behind this."

"Never underestimate the power of the individual. Especially when he has sorcery on his side." He shrugged, "We better check on those kids, make sure that the drugs, or that priest, haven't done any lasting damage."

The kids were alright, so they decided to leave them in the care of The Resistance. As the pair prepared to leave, Karen approached, "Will there be any repercussions from this?" She sounded genuinely concerned, and she was. This was the first time she had been in the presence of an _adult_ Great Old One, the first time she had felt such terrible, inhuman power. Torren-Wraeth, Eickichi, and even Tek seemed like insects against such power. And Nyogtha was not even a particularly powerful deity! "I mean, will Nyogtha come after you for taking the kids?"

Torren-Wraeth paused for a moment, then smiled grimly, "Why should he? I fed him." There was a gnawing sensation in his gut. He had killed. He had killed a human being. Perhaps the priest had deserved to die, but he could not take a being's life without feeling some regret, some guilt.

"What else could you have done?" Karen said softly, as if she sensed his feelings, "What prison could hold a wizard? You saved those kid's lives. That monster was going to kill them. To feed them to that . . . _Thing_."

He nodded quietly, "I know. But if I ever reach the point when I can kill without feeling, will I be any better than people like him?"

To be continued. . .

Notes:

A pentacle, from what I understand, is usually placed upon an altar, in this case, the entire floor was an altar.

Because of my poor memory, Torren-Wraeth's eyes variate between amber and yellow, depending upon his mood.


	49. Chapter 49

The Great Arising

Chapter 49

Temple of The Bloated Woman

China

The Bloated Woman laughed, her five meaty jowls shuddering like thick pudding.

"Is that a threat, Shadow Sage?"

"Quite frankly, _Yes_." Chxixsas' voice showed little emotion. He had been sent to inform Nyarlathotep of the gods' displeasure at its alliance with this unknown threat. It was far easier, and safer, to confront an avatar of The Crawling Chaos instead of the god itself, and he was most acquainted with The Bloated Woman, "The Great Old Ones, The Outer Gods, The Elder Gods, The Lesser Other Gods and Great Ones have, by majority, decreed that no aid is to be given to the being behind these attacks."

The hideous goddess wiped a slavering maw with a greasy tentacle, "By majority? Then not all agree?"

Chxixsas cocked his bone-white head, as if considering the proper response, "Some are mindless, and some seek the destruction of all reality. Some simply do not care. But know this, even Y'Golonac, wickedest of all Great Old Ones, and Cyaegha, the great nihilist, are . . . _Concerned_ with this new presence."

"Concerned, or _afraid_?"

"Perhaps '_enraged_' would be a better term. This unknown is intruding upon their territory, threatening their sovereignty . . ." He paused, "What is this creature? What bargain have you made with it?"

"I don't know what it is, only that it has the power to make all of you tremble. I am but a humble avatar." Her honeyed voices were laced with sarcasm, "I am but one of a Thousand Masks, and you know as well as I that we are not all equal in knowledge or power."

Chxixsas sighed, "I am well aware of that fact, but even I cannot approach The Crawling Chaos in its raw form, thus I am forced to relay information through its avatars. You know not all that it does, but it certainly knows all that you know."

"And do you honestly believe that all of you together can defeat The Whole of Nyarlathotep, much less an even greater power of which you know nothing?"

"I cannot answer that, because I do not know what we would be facing."

"Ahh, falling back on pure logic, how typical of you . . ." The Goddess of The Black Fan ran a teasing tendril across his pale face, "The Whole will contact you with an answer, eventually."

Chxixsas' eyes flashed, "And that Child-Thing?"

"Do you expect The Crawling Chaos to simply hand over one of it's most valuable pawns?"

"Nyarlathotep would sacrifice anything at any time to further its agenda, including you or any other avatar. Loyalty is not a quality it possesses."

"Need I remind you that _you_ rebelled against The Elder Gods even as we did. You have no cause to speak of 'loyalty'."

Chxixsas flinched.

"Perhaps not. But this time _I_ am the messenger of the gods, _not_ you. I would advise you not to oppose their will."

"Do you hope to redeem yourself in their eyes? To be free of the curses The Elder Gods have placed upon their enemies by licking their boots?"

The Shadow Sage said nothing. He simply bent space and time until he was once again within the comforting, cloistered darkness of The Shadow Library. He was weary of the internecine enmity and strife. He was tired of the Great Old Ones, Elder Gods, Outer Gods, Lesser Other Gods and their spawn tearing at each others throats like lowly beasts. They were transcendental beings, such foolishness was far beneath them.

Or, it should have been, anyway.

Of course, as The Bloated Woman had made abundantly clear, he himself had helped create the very schism he despised. He had rebelled against The Elder Gods of his own free will.

The Elder Gods had forgiven, or at least, as they put it 'adequately punished' most of the rebels, but the stigma of their crimes would never be forgotten. Many hated The Elder Gods even more than at the time of the original rebellion due to their humiliations and confinement. Some would, could never forgive their enemies.

But, what was done, was done and would ever be so.

To be continued . . .


	50. Chapter 50

The Great Arising

Chapter 50

_This is the human condition. The species has always practiced genocide. Philistines and Trojans wiped off the earth; the Easter Islanders. . . For the greater part of human history, it was_ de rigueur_ . . ._

Gateway

_Age of Apocalypse: Weapon X #3_

Rapa Nui

Torren-Wraeth pushed yet another Moai into place. Great Cthulhu's latest foray had taken him over the section of R'yleh whereupon the island rested, and his great pressure from his titanic wings had knocked most of the images from their places, and a few had suffered real damage. Torren-Wraeth was surprised that he had been allowed access to his father's city considering his current status amongst the powers that be.

"Perhaps we should move the island . . ." Eikichi said off-handedly. "If the winds and the sea hit this crevasse at a certain angle, the whole island will be swept away."

"Is moving Rapa Nui even possible?"

"Yes. Of course, it would be easier just to move the monuments and sculpt another island to look like this one . . ." He smiled, "Or we could go _Avatar_ and have a floating island. We could do it with tech alone."

"That . . . Might be nice. Lately I've started to mistrust magic. You never really know where, or who, it's coming from."

Most of the Deep Ones no longer lived on the island, and no actual humans had lived there for almost six hundred years. The island had been evacuated during the upheaval, but, unlike New Yokohama, the small populace had drifted apart, being absorbed into other towns and tribes. There was no 'New Rapa Nui' . . .

"We would have to put some kind of protection around it to prevent damage from storms . . ."

A small, dark figure approached the boys, and Torren-Wraeth immediately began to smile. Te'ree had assumed her original, human form and for the first time in centuries Torren-Wraeth saw his mother as the woman she had once been. He walked quickly over and wrapped his arms around her.

"You came back." She said softly.

"Wild shantaks couldn't keep me away. This was . . . _Is_ my home. And you're my mother."

Her black eyes roamed sadly over the Moai, "We are the last, aren't we?"

"No, I don't think so." He smiled, "Besides, if you go back far enough, _all_ humans are related."

Her expression shifted to one of concern, "I worry about you. I admire what you are trying to do, but it's dangerous. Even for beings like you."

"Life is dangerous. But we try to be careful."

"But you _were_ hurt, by Joker."

"He provoked that, not me."

"He was protecting me," Eikichi stated, "And one of our friends."

"I know that. And I'm proud that you stand up for your friends. For what you believe." She paused, "But you've made some powerful enemies. That . . . Clown creature, several avatars of Nyarlathotep, and now, this mystery thing even Chxixsas knows nothing about."

Torren-Wraeth cast his eyes at his feet, "That thing, whatever it is, is far too powerful to really bother with nothings like us. I think it was just playing with us. We were just a distraction in some plot we probably couldn't comprehend anyway. That's what I think, anyway."

"Creatures like this are unknowable, even to many deities. Who knows what it wanted?" Eikichi added, "But it came after us, without provocation. We didn't make ourselves its enemy."

"I know that, as well." She shook her head sadly, "It's just so . . ."

"Dangerous?"

"Frightening."

Torren-Wraeth took his mother's hands in his own. "I know it's dangerous, but I don't have a choice, not really." He said softly, "I'm Cthulhu's son, but I'm also your son. I'm not a Great Old One, Elder God or Outer God, but I'm not human, mortal. I'll never 'fit in' anywhere. I have to make a place for myself."

"That's part of growing up, isn't it?" She smiled, putting her arms around her son, "I'm so proud of you."

To be continued . . .


End file.
